Flame
by Aussie73
Summary: Silliness ensues after Jack and Sam review the messages from the Atlantis expedition.
1. Chapter 1

The Wraith were on their way to Earth.

Crap! As if the snake-heads weren't bad enough, now we had to deal with freakin' vampires! Colonel Sumner was a good man; I bet he hadn't gone down easily.

I watched as Major Sheppard finished his awkward eulogy - there was something about the younger man that reminded me of ... well, me. I'd known of him for a long time including that Afghanistan op where he'd saved three team-mates' lives, disobeying direct orders in the process.

I'd never realized how similar we were until Weir had set me straight. She'd been discussing adding Sheppard to the Atlantis team and I'd pointed out his proclivity for disobeying orders.

She looked at me and smirked. "General; I have read your _own_ file," she said. "Please."

"Right."

Moving on!

Daniel strolled in at that point. "Oh, the Atlantis message," he said, shoving his glasses up his nose. He'd wanted to join that expedition, but I'd set a size thirteen firmly on that notion. Then he'd wanted to join the Prometheus crew for a rescue mission. I'd also tried to stop that, but had been over-ruled by Hammond.

The fact that Daniel - the civilian - had held out against a hijacker when the SG-3 Marines and a two-star General hadn't been able to had tickled me. It had taken Reynolds and his jarheads a while to live that one down.

"Come in," I grumbled. The guy wasn't military and wouldn't have dreamed of knocking on the door. Not that I was much for all that military etiquette, but sometimes it would've been nice. After all, I was 'The Man' now.

Weird. I'd spent most of my life sticking it to The Man and now ... I _was_ The Man. Huh. Must've been bad karma or something.

"Seen Sam around?" Daniel continued, dropping into a seat next to me, as I put the recording on pause.

Oh, boy, had I ever! No, bad General! But this thing she had lately for sweet little tank tops was ... distracting! Meh; nice choice of words. Black stretchy tank tops that molded to every inch of her five nine frame, showing off slim arms, thin waist and rounded perky ...

"What's he saying?"

"Huh?" I jerked up from my Carter-induced musing to find that Daniel was playing the recording. I watched the scientist gabble and gesticulate excitedly about how Atlantis had risen from the sea. I'd already watched the recording once, so I wasn't surprised. "Oh. That's Czech," I told the linguist.

He frowned and I smirked. "Not one of your twenty-three languages, Danny-boy?" Hadn't called him that in a while, but it still pissed him off. Nice to know some things will always be the same.

"No," he said, pausing the recording. "You speak Czech?"

Time for one of those little bombs I liked to drop every now and then. I might not have multiple PhDs, but I wasn't as dumb as I liked to act. "And Spanish, Arabic, Chinese, Russian, Portuguese and German," I said mildly. I decided to leave out the fact that I could also speak Asgard - I didn't want to kill the guy; he _was_ my best friend, for cryin' out loud.

And if, ten years ago, someone had told me that my best friend would be a geeky linguist with allergies I would've laughed myself stupid. Life is so weird.

Daniel shook his head. "You're not as dumb as you make out, huh?" he said, sipping his coffee.

A knock on the door and my 2IC poked her blonde head in, big blue eyes shining. _Nice_. "Hey, Daniel. You're watching the Atlantis recording," she said. _Hail, Mistress of the obvious._ "Mind if I tag along?" she added, then drew herself up straight as she saw me. "Sir; hi," she said.

"Hey, Carter. Take a pew," I said.

She strolled into my office and sat down next to me, the warm skin of her bare upper arm sinking into my tee-shirt-clad one. Damn distracting tank top!

"Roll 'em, Daniel!" I ordered gruffly, then perked up when I saw Doctor Rodney McKay appear.

"Samantha Carter," the recording began. Carter flinched.

Did I mention I'd already seen this recording?

Heh; revenge is sweet.

_And so are Carter's tank tops_, my libido added.

D'oh!


	2. Chapter 2

"Have you seen Doctor Jackson, Airman?" I asked the young man.

He went pink - who knows why? - but answered, "I believe he's in General O'Neill's office."

_Ah, of course._ "Thank you," I said, then headed for the General's office.

The ex-Special Forces General and an archeologist/linguist. Quite possibly one of the oddest friendships I'd ever known, but there was no denying the strength of Daniel's and the General's bond.

Since taking over the base, the General had withdrawn somewhat from his friendship with SG-1 - had to, obviously; he had the welfare of an entire base, not just three people, to think of.

He'd grown ever more distant and serious as of late, as if walling himself up against the next hurt, and that saddened me. He was less boyish, less playful ... and I missed his child-like side.

But Daniel wouldn't let him withdraw entirely - he'd always had a gift for making friends, and was not bound by military rules of conduct as I was. He never referred to the General as 'sir', never knocked on his door ... in short, never acted as though anything had really changed. I admired that, but couldn't replicate it.

_Everything_ had changed.

I knocked gently on the General's open door, then poked my head in, seeing the errant linguist. "Hey, Daniel," I said, then saw the video. You're watching the Atlantis recording. Mind if I tag along?" Then I saw the General slouched near him, legs crossed at the ankles, only the top of his silver head visible above his big leather chair.

General O'Neill had a very different style to Hammond - for starters, Hammond never wore BDUs. It just didn't happen. But General O'Neill had worked his charms - yes, I admit it; the man could be charming - on the matronly woman in charge of mending our uniforms, and had gotten her to sew a black star on each of his lapels.

You rarely saw O'Neill in dress blues - he hated them with a passion. He would never have believed what a striking and handsome figure he cut in them. The last time he'd worn them was when the President had arrived to officially swear him in as CO of the SGC.

Today, his jacket was hanging off the edge of his chair, and he was wearing a standard issue black tee shirt that set off his tanned skin and silver hair very nicely.

_No! Bad Sam! Haven't you already got someone in your life?_

Then my devil chimed in; _You're engaged, not dead._

Point taken. And it wasn't like Pete didn't look at women. He tried to be subtle about it - he didn't drool or anything - but he had an ... appreciation, shall we say for the female of the species.

I drew myself up straight. "Sir; hi," I said.

"Hey, Carter. Take a pew," he replied.

I strolled into the office and sat down next to the General, feeling the soft cotton of his tee shirt against my upper arm. _Stupid day to have left your jacket in your lab, Sam_, I mourned. After nearly eight years, I sometimes forgot how magnetic the General could be.

"Roll 'em, Daniel!" he ordered gruffly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

The man was one bundle of energy that belied his age. In his field days, he'd been able to channel much of his excess energy into keeping his team alive, doodling or fiddling with anything that lay within reach.

And there we go! He picked up a pen, and started twirling it between his long fingers.

The video started and Doctor McKay appeared. _Yuck._ The scientist was an arrogant pompous windbag who labored under the delusion that my animosity to him was a mask for sexual attracted. "Samantha Carter," he said.

I flinched. _Oh please, oh please ..._ I breathed in quickly. _Don't say anything McKay-like._

"Samantha Carter; if you're watching" - he put a hand over his heart - "the torch is still burning."

_Oh, God, no-o-o-o-o-o!_

On my other side, Daniel gave a strangled laugh whilst the General just smirked. Had a good line in smirk, did our General O'Neill.

"Sadly, soon to be extinguished, but, uh ... You know, you should know - I think you are just ... so ... well, you're great - you're really, really great, and, uh, I would go so far as saying you're the hottest scientist I've ever worked with."

_Uh ... Thor? Any time you want to beam me up? Thor?_

Nothing.

Daniel's laugh was less strangled this time, and the General's smirk broadened.

"In fact, there's probably not a night that goes by that I don't, uh, find myself, uh ... Okay, Ford; let's, let's lose that." He got up. "And let's get back to, uh ..." - he cleared his throat and folded his arms - "leadership."

Daniel's shoulders were shaking as he tried to tamp down his laughter. I had Level 3 Advanced hand to hand - he knew I could so hurt him right now.

I turned to the other man and was absurdly pleased to see that a smile had replaced the smirk, dimpling his cheeks. The General had a nice smile, but we didn't get to see it very often. So even though it was at my expense, I couldn't get too mad at him.

Besides, he had Level _4_ Advanced hand to hand, I reminded myself. He could have me on my back before I could even blink. _Whoa; bad choice of words there!_

"I ... I can't believe he said that!" I sputtered, sure that I was now scarlet. "And why would Lieutenant Ford let that appear on the data burst?"

The General fiddled once again with his pen, laughter dancing in his eyes. "Seems as if Lieutenant Ford has selective deafness."

"Or he just doesn't like McKay," Daniel said.

"That too," the General agreed. He gave me another smirk as the tape started up again, now showing McKay pontificating about leadership.

I breathed in, reminding myself that beating up a one-star wasn't exactly the way to advance one's career. But revenge _would_ be sweet. Some day, one day, I would get him back for this.


	3. Chapter 3

Restraint.

Sometimes I thought those two deserved a medal for restraint. Sometimes I thought it was noble. Other times I thought it was just plain stupid.

Sam and Jack were two of the best friends I'd ever had - as well as Teal'c - and I was sad to see them so determined to deny how great they could be together. I'd only had a year with Sha're, but it had been the most wonderful year of my life. I wouldn't trade that year for anything, even with what happened to her.

Although I wasn't military, I'd spent enough time with military personnel to understand the logic behind the fraternization regulations. But since when did feelings have anything to do with logic?

For years, I'd watched Sam and Jack conduct an on-again off-again flirtation. Sometimes I'd thought they were merely inches from jumping each other - even _without_ alien viruses. Sometimes they were like an old married couple - one that had once been physically close, but who now valued quiet companionship more than anything else. And sometimes they argued like cat and dog - spitting and snarling angrily.

Then after the Zatarc testing, they'd retreated behind the barriers of Colonel and Major. I still didn't know what had gone on during the re-testing - and Teal'c wasn't about to tell - but something had shaken them up badly.

When I returned to this plane of existence - very Zen, huh? - I noticed that they'd seemed to regain some of their ease around each other. Sam was once more laughing at Jack's lame jokes and he was once more hanging round her lab and breaking things.

Then she started seeing Pete. And Janet died. God ... Janet. Five two and hell on wheels. I could tell you more, but I know she'd come back and haunt me. Then Jack stuck his head in the Ancient Repository - _again_.

Jack was put on ice after defeating Anubis and was there for three months before Thor was able to resuscitate him. We helped rescue Sam from the clutches of Fifth - and don't think I didn't see Jack touch Sam's thigh to reassure himself that she was alive. Jack O'Neill was not the most eloquent of men, but he was able to express himself very well through touch and gestures.

The journey back to Earth had taken several days, and I could see the team coming back together again.

Then they'd promoted him.

Brigadier General Jack O'Neill. Who could now do whatever he wanted - God help us all.

And Sam accepted Pete's proposal of marriage.

Jack started distancing himself shortly after accepting command of the SGC and even more so after Sam announced her engagement. I don't know whether it was related, but it sure couldn't have helped.

I didn't blame Sam in the least for seeing Pete. She and Jack were in limbo - unless one of them wised up and retired, or at least left the SGC. She deserved happiness.

Not to say that Jack didn't either. I'd seen Jack at his lowest point - just after the death of his son - and knew that demon still haunted him. He'd gone through a hell of a lot for his country and for the world. The simple fact that some of his file was so classified even General Hammond couldn't read it told me that.

I just wished they'd get a clue and realize neither one of them is worth a damn without the other. But they were both so shy that I knew they'd never admit it. Yes; shy. Sam hid it with her techno-babble and Jack with bluster, but when it came down to it, they were easily the shyest people I'd ever met.

Shortly after the Goa'uld alert situation in America and Russia, we'd received a message from the Atlantis expedition. A 1.3 second data burst filled with vital security information ... and personal messages. For security reasons, Jack had to review all the messages to make sure no leaks occurred, and I wandered along to ... be nosy, I guess.

And he let slip that he spoke several different languages. I'd always suspected as much. You couldn't spend all those years in Special Forces - going all over some of the nastiest spots in the world - without learning some of the language.

Then Sam came along, dressed in the black tank top she seemed to favor recently - regardless of the poor young Airmen who'd come to a stammering standstill as a five nine blonde Colonel strode past them. In some ways, Sam and I were like brother and sister, but I wasn't blind. She _was_ a beautiful woman.

She sat down next to the General, their arms touching, and I snickered to myself (have you ever snickered internally? Don't - it tickles) when he shifted uncomfortably. Then Doctor Rodney McKay appeared and started yammering about how hot she was.

Jack started smirking in earnest now, then smiling as Sam went beet red. I tried to hide my helpless laughter, because of that look in her eyes - the one that said 'I am a USAF officer - I know hundreds of ways to hurt you', but wasn't particularly successful.

"I ... I can't believe he said that!" she said. "And why would Lieutenant Ford let that appear on the data burst?"

Jack fiddled with his pen. "Seems as if Lieutenant Ford has selective deafness," he offered.

"Or he just doesn't like McKay," I said. Who did?

"That too," Jack agreed. He gave Sam another smirk as the tape started up again.

I shivered at the look Sam sent the oblivious General. It was a good job she was such a stickler for rules, otherwise Jack would have been in severe danger.

The video came to an end and Sam got up, stretching her arms up high. "Well, that was interesting," she said.

"Yeah," Jack said, leaning back in his seat and linking his hands behind his head. "Doctor Zelenka's message will need some ... editing, but the other personal messages are fine. Release them to the Pentagon, will ya, Carter?"

"Of course, sir," she said. She paused, then put one hand on Jack's desk. "Permission to burn McKay's message, sir?"

Jack grinned - he did a lot of smirking, but a genuine grin was rare for him. "Spoil sport," he accused.

"I think you've had enough ... sport at my expense, sir," she countered, placing her hands on her hips.

"True," Jack admitted. "Okay; permission granted. Lose his message - it's full of crap, anyway - then get ready. You're shipping out to P2 ... whatever in two hours."

"Yes, sir," Sam said, smiling at Jack's fudging of the planetary designations. "It'll be good to see the Enkarans again."

"The Enkarans?" My interest was piqued. "I thought there _was_ no 'gate on their world."

"That's why I said _shipping_ out, Daniel," Jack said patiently. "You'll head to Peterson in two hours, where the Prometheus will take you to the Enkaran homeworld."

"We'll cover it properly in the pre-mission brief, Daniel," Sam added. She ejected the video and tucked it under an arm. "But basically, Hedrazar invited us to celebrate a wedding."

"Sweet," Jack said. "Think they'll have cake?"

Sam smiled. "Possibly, sir," she admitted.

"I might just tag along on this one," Jack said. "It'll be good to get off world and the Enkarans are a nice people. Besides" - he winked at me - "I'll need to keep an eye on you, Colonel. You know how you are with funky alien drinks. Remember P3X 595?"

Her jaw dropped. "Eight years ago. That was eight _years_ ago!" she said. "Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Nope," Jack said.

Sam's cheeks were once more a lovely shade of pink, and I tried to hide my laughter. "The one planetary designation you remember, and it's _that_ one?" she asked.

"What can I say?" Jack said, flipping open a file. "It's forever burned into my memory."

"Besides, it's not like you didn't do things just as stupid. What about that cake on Argos?"

"A-ah!" Jack held up a hand. "I'm supposed to tease _you_, Carter, not the other way round. It's more fun that way. Now get outta here. I've got important General stuff to do."

As we left the office, I could barely restrain my crow of triumph. _Yes! They're back!_


	4. Chapter 4

_After 'Threads', but before they go to the cabin._

* * *

I had lived on the world of the Tauri for nearly eight of their years and for most of that time had lived within the SGC complex.

I had tried to live off-base for a short period, but unwittingly put a young neighbor in danger when operatives of the Trust became interested in me. Therefore, I chose to move back.

Always 'the alien'.

Yet I did not feel sorry for myself - and I hoped that no-one else did either. There are advantages to being on the outside - it gives one a fresh perspective and allows for quiet observation and reflection. When O'Neill is not present, that is.

O'Neill is many things - a warrior, a friend, a father (albeit without progeny of his own), a joker - but the one thing he is not is reflective.

But I am being unjust to him. O'Neill and I are brothers - kindred spirits - and I know there is more to him than the cynical simplistic military man he prefers to portray. I believe that his distaste for reflection stems from the darkness within that threatens to overwhelm him.

Like me, O'Neill has many things in his past of which he is thoroughly ashamed. Yet he demonstrated an amazing faith in me when we met in Chulak - one that I reciprocated. Although many people claimed that they could help me and my Jaffa brothers, he was the first I believed could actually do it.

Now - more than seven years later - the Jaffa rebellion had received more and more warriors into their ranks, and had even spread to our females. Once, I would have scorned the idea of female warriors such as Ishta, but working with Colonel Carter for so long taught me much about the female of the species.

She and O'Neill were warriors both - but Colonel Carter was also a scientist, like Daniel Jackson; my other good friend. Although she did not talk much about it, I knew that Colonel Carter had had difficulties during her early career, due to her gender - another similarity these people shared with my own. But she had risen above her fellow officers' prejudices and was now a Colonel in charge of a combat unit - that was a high accolade for a woman.

One would have thought that such a woman would have married many years ago - it seemed wrong that she would be the end of her line. She had had opportunities for relationships, but had held herself aloof - whilst remaining friendly. I had not understood this until O'Neill and then-Major Carter were accused of being Zatarcs - Goa'uld assassins.

They'd been tested by a Tok'ra named Anise, who had determined that they both had false memories - this was one of the signs of this particular type of mind control. To prevent them from carrying out their pre-programmed mission - the assassination of the President - they were to be sedated and restrained.

O'Neill had instead offered himself for re-testing, stating that if he _were_ to kill himself during the testing at least there would be a body for Anise to perform a detailed autopsy. He was a fine leader - prepared to sacrifice himself for his team.

But Major Carter stopped the test from proceeding by revealing that they had been lying about their last mission - albeit unintentionally. They had been deceiving themselves.

They had gone on a mission to destroy Apophis's new ship under the influence of the Atanik arm-bands - another one of Anise's experiments. Much stronger and faster than any normal human - or Jaffa - they had easily eluded Apophis's Jaffa ... until the effects of the armbands wore off. They were then trapped on opposite sides of a forcefield, with Major Carter facing certain death at the hands of the Serpent Guard.

O'Neill had refused to leave her behind - this was one of his unwritten rules, and likely stemmed from the fact that he had once been left behind in enemy territory and had suffered four months of abuse and torture. I know that O'Neill would have responded the same way had Daniel Jackson or I been the one trapped. However, it was the reason behind his refusal to leave that had led them to this point.

He admitted reluctantly that he could not leave Carter behind - that he would rather die himself than lose her. There was no passion to his words - just a sad resignation - yet it had clarified much of their odd behavior; the unresolved sexual tension, the silly banter, the disagreements. O'Neill and Colonel Carter shared a powerful love for each other - one that was unacknowledged, but no less strong for that lack of acknowledgment.

The Air Force had strict rules against officers within the same command engaging in relations - even an accusation of such behavior could ruin their careers. Daniel Jackson had often stated that he thought these rules were stupid - I could not agree. As a warrior myself, I knew that serving with loved ones could put one's cause at risk. Could you order your lover to his or her death? Would you hesitate at the wrong moment?

It was unfortunate for O'Neill and Colonel Carter, but unless one of them chose to retire or leave the SGC, they had no future together. And the world of the Tauri - and its allies - still needed them.

So they set their feelings aside and continued to work together - through the good times and the bad. But something had gone from their interactions - a spark that could so easily have been a flame had been ruthlessly quenched by their loyalty to their world.

Truly admirable.

After O'Neill took command of the SGC, his interactions with Colonel Carter became formal in the extreme - as if he was trying to distance himself even further from her. This was likely due to the existence of Pete Shanahan in Colonel Carter's life, but I did not know for sure. O'Neill would not talk about it, and I would not press him.

Trying times came to us during this year. Daniel Jackson went missing twice - as O'Neill phrased it; "Of all the damn annoying hobbies he had to take up, why _this_ one?". The Goa'uld attempted to provoke war between America and Russia. The Replicators began to make railroads into this galaxy, nearly causing the Jaffa Rebellion to fail.

And Jacob Carter - host to the Tok'ra Selmak, Colonel Carter's father, and one of our greatest allies - died. With Selmak, he should have outlived us all - but Selmak had fallen ill before our fight against the Replicators and had already began producing deadly toxins as she died. By the time Jacob Carter arrived on Earth, it was already too late for him.

I closed my eyes silently, remembering the man. Two memorial services had been held for him - one here in accordance with Air Force traditions and one on the Tok'ra's latest homeworld.

This was more than a week ago, and Colonel Carter appeared to be handling her grief well. She looked tired and strained much of the time, and ate little, but had not fallen apart. She needed to grieve, however, but that could not happen until she was ready.

Then O'Neill proposed a team trip to his cabin in Minnesota. I had been there with him once, many years ago, but had failed to see the appeal of fishing in a pond that _had_ no fish. The Tauri could be very strange at times.

I refused initially, due to bad memories of small insects chewing on my skin, but allowed myself to be persuaded when O'Neill admitted that the trip was more for Colonel Carter. She needed time away from everything - but it would not look proper for an Air Force officer to go on vacation with her commanding officer.

"C'mon, T!" he wheedled - after several years, I had come to accept this diminutive of my name as an expression of friendship. "Ya know Carter's gotta get outta here. Have you seen her lately? She's not sleeping, she's barely eating - I swear she's dropped ten pounds in the last two weeks."

"Can you not simply order her to take some leave?" I suggested, amused at the mere notion. I had never known the Tauri woman to take leave. She spent much of her leisure time carrying out the experiments for which she did not have time during her working day.

O'Neill looked at me askance, but I had long ago perfected what the Tauri called a 'poker face' and he could never seem to tell when I was joking. "Hah," he mumbled. "But if we could go out there as a team, I think I might be able to persuade her."

"Should Pete Shanahan not be with her during this time?" I asked.

O'Neill shrugged slightly. "She broke it off a couple days ago," he said. "Another reason she needs a break - lost her dad _and_ her fiancé in less than a week. That's a lot to deal with."

"Indeed," I agreed. I had only met Pete Shanahan once, but had not formed a good impression of him. He had asked a friend to carry out a background check on Colonel Carter two weeks after their association had begun, then he followed her and nearly wrecked our operation to free Sarah Gardner from the Goa'uld Osiris. Pete Shanahan did not trust Colonel Carter - she deserved better.

"So ... you'll come?" O'Neill said now. "I've already managed to get Daniel onboard.

I made my decision. "I will come, O'Neill," I said.

* * *

_This part wasn't humorous, but I've wanted to do a Teal'c perspective thing for a long time. And his views on being the outsider happen to reflect my own view as being someone who's never fit in her whole life - and has never cared to._

_More humor in the next part, I promise! _:-)


	5. Chapter 5

_Sometime between Seasons 8 and 9._

I strolled along to my office, whistling slightly off-key and supremely content after two weeks fishing at my cabin. With fish.

The recording we'd found of us - still freaked by that, by the way - in that 5000 year old Canopic jar had said there were no fish in my pond. If that were still the case, then we'd know that whatever we'd done in the past had had no effect on the future. Would have had ... on the present.

Relativity gives me a headache.

So ... fish. In my fishless pond. As I'd said to Carter "Close enough." College football was still played on Saturday, Pro on Sunday, communism had failed in Eastern Europe, Henry Hayes was still the President.

Sweeeet.

Carter - for once - hadn't tried to argue that even the tiniest change could have massive consequences. She'd just looked at me and grinned before casting her line.

It had been good for her to get away - she'd taken her dad's death badly. We all had. He was a good guy and I'd liked him a lot - I even called him 'Dad' sometimes.

But never to his face. Despite the fact that he was older than me, that snake kept him in peak condition and I knew he'd pound on me if I ever called him 'Dad' to his face.

After a few days, you could see the strain easing in Carter. She was still sad, obviously - you don't get over losing someone you love - but she'd started laughing at my lame jokes once more and blushing prettily whenever I teased her.

Whoa.

Blushing ... _prettily_?

O'Neill; you're getting sappy in your old age.

After the initial unease of a CO vacationing with his 2IC - which was why T and Daniel were also there - Carter had started relaxing and had allowed her rarely seen wicked sense of humor to emerge.

I'd always known she was smart - hell, she had a PhD in something I could barely pronounce, let alone understand. And she was compassionate, strong - and could kick ass.

But she had a previously undiscovered penchant for practical jokes that could rival yours truly at his most childish. And that was saying something. She didn't inflict any on me - sticking to the rules, Carter, or afraid of retribution? - but she tormented T and Daniel non-stop.

They took it in good part mostly - enjoying her silly streak as much as I did - but she took it a little too far when she shaved half of Teal'c's head while he was sleeping.

After a highly indignant Jaffa removed the rest of his hair, Daniel pleaded with me for help in getting revenge on a certain leggy blonde Colonel. How could I refuse?

You could have heard the shriek a mile away when Carter woke up the following morning to find that she had been strapped into her bed - which Teal'c, Daniel and I had lugged with much grunting to the roof of the cabin.

After she'd worked her way free, and we'd calmed down from our near hysterical laughter, she'd vowed to take us down.

"Oh, bring it on, Colonel!" I taunted as we chowed down on waffles. I'd never been a big waffle fan, but those had been good. I'd always been a Froot Loops guy, but having to eat the things hundreds of days in a row during that freaky Groundhog thing had pretty much put me off those for life.

She smiled. "In 160 hours, you will no longer be my commanding officer, sir," she said. She gave another smile - one that said 'Dead meat on a stick'.

She patted the transfer orders that lay on the breakfast table, gave me another evil grin, and strolled away.

And now ... As of 00:01 this morning, I was no longer her commanding officer. I was due to transfer to DC in three weeks, but my replacement would arrive today so that I could begin the handover process.

I blinked as I saw Walter standing outside my closed door, his arms folded over his chest and a wary expression on his face. "Walter ...?" I said slowly, already extending my hand for the flask of coffee with which he usually greeted me.

Nada.

Was his ESP off today?

I didn't pout. Generals don't pout. Maybe throw the odd hissy fit. Maybe. But we don't pout.

"General, sir," he said. He scooted protectively in front of the door. "You ... don't want to go in there."

"It's my office, Walter," I said patiently.

I moved forward, but he didn't budge. For a little guy with glasses that I could kill with two fingers, he was pretty brave today. "Walter?"

He sighed and moved away. "Of course, sir." His tone said 'Don't say I didn't warn you', but I ignored it.

I opened the door and stepped into ...

Holy crap.

Every piece of furniture had been nailed to the ceiling.

Some hidden playback device screeched and chattered merrily in Goa'uld.

And a huge ... honkin' ... smelly ... dead ... fish was glued to one of my filing cabinets, nearly obliterating the top drawer.

I took in a deep breath, ready to scream "_Walter!_" and regretted it immediately.

I dived out of the office at nearly light speed - not so ancient, huh, Jack? - and nearly fell over one Master Sergeant. Seems the ESP was back to normal.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Sergeant Siler is trying to track down the source of the ... noise. And a maintenance team is on its way to restore your furniture to its proper location."

"And the fish?"

"We've tried everything we have on base, sir," he said. "We may have to simply throw away the cabinet and get you a new one from stores."

Crap. I'd gotten used to that filing cabinet. It was one of those ones that actually stands on a pedestal - meaning that I didn't have to get down on my increasingly crappy knees to get to the bottom drawer. And it was wood too - nice. Classy. Actually went with the big leather chair and mahogany desk that currently graced my ceiling.

"Well ... do what ya gotta do, Walter." I patted the man on the shoulder as Siler arrived, armed with his omnipresent giant wrench. "Me; I have a visit to pay."

I walked away and headed for a certain blonde astrophysicist's lab.

_Game on, Colonel. Game on._


	6. Chapter 6

_Shortly after the events of Part 5. The updates are likely to slow down now, as I have gone back to work after a week off and can only work on these stories during the evenings._

_This whole story/piece of lunacy was inspired by Lea Marie's story 'Late Night Swim', also available on this site. A lot of fun and highly recommended._

_And now on with the story!_

* * *

I strolled out of the elevator. "Colonel Carter," Teal'c greeted me.

"Hey, Teal'c," I said, trying to hide my smirk at his once-again-shaved head - without success, I might add.

He ignored my grin. "General Landry will arrive in less than an hour," he said. "Should you not have been here before now?"

"Keep your hair on, Teal'c." This time I didn't even bother to hide the smirk.

He tilted his eyebrow. "I have taken only mild revenge upon you, Colonel Carter - do not tempt fate."

Oh, yeah - Teal'c and his Jaffa revenge thing. It had nearly gotten him killed a few years ago when he'd gotten into a personal battle with the Goa'uld who'd killed his lover. "Got ya." I looked at my watch. "You think General O'Neill is in yet?" _Nice segue, Doctor._

"I believe I saw him go to his office approximately fifteen minutes ago, Colonel Carter," Teal'c said, checking his own watch.

"I don't give a damn, Siler!" The General's dulcet tones echoed faintly somewhere along the corridor. "Just get rid of that damn fish! And ... can _someone_ turn off that freakin' noise?"

I sniggered. _Guess the biter got bit, huh, General?_

* * *

"Hey, Carter!"

I looked up from my analysis of the Daedalus's hyperdrive engines to see the General standing at my open doorway. As usual, his hands were plunged deep in his pockets and his hair was all on end.

What wasn't quite so usual was the ... ahem; odor that clung to his clothing.

I choked down the smirk. "Sir; hi," I said.

He strolled in and I coughed slightly as the odor reached me. "Don't give me that innocent wide-eyed crap, Carter," he said. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about fish being where they shouldn't be?"

"We both agreed that this reality was close enough to the one we described on the video, sir," I said. "I really wouldn't recommend trying to change anything. The last thing we need is to risk a grandfather paradox ...".

"A-ah! Don't even _think_ of trying to techno-babble your way out of this one, Carter!" he said. "Just keep this in mind; I bear grudges."

That was true. The General was the king of grudge-bearing. I was pretty sure that if _he_ had been married to Sha're rather than Daniel, Teal'c would never have become a part of SG-1- in fact, wouldn't have lived long enough to regret his choices. "Sir?" I said.

He smiled - a predatory smile. "Just ... remember that, Carter," he said, then turned round and left, taking the odor with him.

I chuckled and got back to work.

* * *

It had been a week since the General had vowed retribution and, by now, I was a nervous wreck. I had taken to checking everything in my lab before I would touch it, and my laptop was welded to my person. When I was on world, that is.

Unfortunately, General Landry decided that we had been off the mission roster long enough, and scheduled a mission for us. If it hadn't been USAF property, I would have taken it home.

The door to my lab creaked open and I started, spilling coffee onto my table. "Sorry to startle you, Colonel," Landry said cautiously.

Breathing in heavily, I turned to him. "It's okay, sir," I said, wondering if I was about to get yanked off of active duty. After seeing me engage in borderline anal-compulsive behavior for a week, he probably had me down as a complete nut-job.

Maybe _this_ was the General's revenge? Turn me into a nervous wreck just _waiting_ for the other shoe to drop and not have to lift a finger? Devious. If I hadn't been on the receiving end, I would've admired his strategy.

I stood straight, arms folded behind my back. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes, Colonel," Landry said. "I'd like to know just what the hell you and General O'Neill are playing at."

_Crap. I'm dead._ "Sir?" I said politely.

"O'Neill has spent the last week walking round with a huge sh ... smug grin, and you - a Lieutenant Colonel in command of our best team - are a nervous wreck." Landry frowned. "And don't think I didn't find out about your redecorating efforts."

_Oh God ..._ I looked at my new CO, trying to assess how badly I was going to be punished, but I hadn't known him long enough to read him. A big man with a wealth of experience, he was about ten years older than General O'Neill, but wore his years lightly - much like O'Neill.

"You're damn lucky that I'm not officially in command of this facility yet, Colonel," Landry continued. "I don't know what kind of silly game you and O'Neill are playing, but you are _not_ to bring it to work. Is that understood?"

"Sir! Yes, sir!" I said, straightening my back even further.

"Good," he said. "Now gear up, Colonel - you leave for P2J 444 in a half hour."

"Yes, sir," I replied.

* * *

_Sorry if my take on General Landry is completely off. As I don't have satellite, I haven't seen any of Season 9 yet. If I've got him wrong, treat this as an AU or a 'what could have been'. LOL._


	7. Chapter 7

_30 reviews. I can't believe how well people are responding to this piece of fluff. I'm getting close to the end now, as I don't want to wear out my welcome._

* * *

"Dismissed," Landry bit out.

I stepped back from the desk in my office ... dammit; _Hank's_ office ... and nodded my head at the other General. "Yes, sir," I said. I was a Brigadier General, but Hank Landry was a Major General - that extra star carried a lot of weight.

I got out of the office and decided to go see Carter. Time-out had been called and we'd been sent to the penalty box. Yeah; a bit of mixing of sports analogies there, but who cares?

I felt kinda bad for the reaming-out Carter likely got from Hank. I'd known the guy a long time, and had a long history of ... shall we say attitude, and even I'd been taken aback by the tongue-lashing I'd gotten for bringing our little feud onto the base.

Hank was a good man and a damn good officer, but he wasn't as casual as I was. I still sometimes wondered how I'd ever made it to Brigadier. But I had. And soon I was going to take charge of Homeworld Security - coordinating the SGC, Area 51, Prometheus, Daedalus, the Alpha Site and the Atlantis expedition. Seeing as I'd only made Brigadier a year ago, there would be no Major General O'Neill yet, but it was a significant promotion. I snickered at the thought of my former CO's dropping a cow when they heard that.

I went along to Carter's lab and leaned - oh so casually - against the door jamb with my arms folded. "Hey," I said.

"Sir," she replied very properly.

"Ah ... sorry about getting you into trouble there, Carter," I offered. Lame, but I'd never been good at apologizing.

She smiled, seeming to appreciate the effort at least. "That's okay, sir," she said. "I had it coming - I should have known better."

"So ... truce?" I came over to her and stuck my hand out.

Her hands went to her hips, drawing my attention to the curves, sadly covered by the jacket of her BDUs. Hey, I'm only human! "While on base ...? Yes, sir." She gave me a very O'Neill-like smirk. "But off the base? Game on ... _sir_."

She made the word 'sir' sound like a curse, and I bit back a grin. I had to admit that watching her scuttle around corners, checking open doors for booby traps and keeping her laptop welded to herself had been ... amusing. "Should I be worried, Colonel?" I asked softly.

Now the smirk turned into a full-blown dazzling Carter smile. "Yes, sir," she replied.

* * *

I turned the handle and moved forward automatically, nearly bumping my nose on the door when it didn't open. _Ah; key._ Due to the relocation of our little 'war', I'd finally taken Joe Spencer's advice and locked my front door before going to the SGC yesterday morning.

I dug my key out of my pocket and let myself into the house, locking the door behind me. Not that that would keep out one determined leggy blonde Colonel, but it made me feel a little better.

Maybe I was being paranoid - after all, said leggy blonde Colonel was currently off world on some no-name planet in the ass end of nowhere. But paranoia kept a body alive.

And Carter had a lot of friends.

After checking out each room, I breathed a sigh of relief and headed into my bedroom to shuck off my clothes before stepping into the shower and letting the water pound the day's stresses out of me. Yes; there were showers on the base, but nothing beat being able to truly wallow.

A strange squeaky noise issued from outside the window, and I frowned, turning the water off. I got out of the shower and pulled on a robe, then padded quietly to the window, ready for action.

I pushed the window open and stuck my head out. "Hello?" I said, then withdrew my head quickly before a paint ball or something just as juvenile could land on me.

Nothing.

Then another strange squeak.

I looked out once more, squinting slightly - in the privacy of my own house, I could admit that maybe, _maybe_, I needed glasses. And then I saw the source of the squeak.

A tiny little marmalade-colored kitten, no bigger than my hand, tottered toward me, almost falling over itself in its effort to reach me. It opened its mouth and mewed piteously.

At first, I thought maybe this was Carter's idea of a joke, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it occurred. Carter loved cats and would never let one get into this condition. I leaned my chin on the windowsill and extended a hand cautiously outward. "C'mere, baby," I said softly, hoping no-one could see the rough, tough USAF General talking to a ball of fluff.

The kitten wobbled over to me and sniffed cautiously at my nose. I sneezed from its whiskers and it jumped backward, startled by the explosion in the quiet night air. Then it tilted its head to one side and crept forward once more.

It sniffed at my outstretched hand, then mewed once again. I extended my other hand and gently lifted the tiny animal into my bathroom. It squeaked at the sudden movement, but then cuddled trustingly into the soft terry of my bathrobe.

I stroked the damp orange fur with a forefinger, surprised when the kitten purred happily in response. I'd never been a big fan of cats, preferring dogs, and cats certainly didn't respond to me. Carter had once said it was because I was too tall, too intense and too abrupt in my movements.

But this little baby didn't seem to realize that its relatives didn't trust me.

"What's Carter know, huh?" I muttered to the kitten. It - I lifted its tail - _she_ mewed once more, as if in agreement, then closed her eyes.

Tucking the damp kitten into the folds of my robe, I made my way into the kitchen and got some milk from the refrigerator. I poured some into a saucer and added some water. The kitten squeaked in protest when I removed her from her warm nest, but made a good attempt at snarfing down the milk and water before yawning widely.

I scooped her up and went into the living room, putting the fire on and settling the kitten on the rug in front of it. Then I flopped onto my big recliner and flicked on the TV. Just in time for my _favorite_ show.

The kitten looked around curiously, then padded over to me. She mewed up at me. I looked down. "What?" Oh, crap - now I'd turned into one of those people who talks to their pets like they're humans! _Senility setting in early, huh, O'Neill?_

The kitten mewed again and eyed me. "Oh, for cryin' out loud," I mumbled. I leaned down and picked up the little fluff-ball, placing her gently in my lap. She mewed less demandingly this time, and curled up into a ball on my thigh.

I stroked the tiny head with a gentle finger, surprised at how cute I found this little piece of fragility. After all the crap I'd experienced, the horror, the torture, the ... weirdness, this tiny kitten represented a fragment of normality.

"Well," I mumbled, "looks like I've got a kitten."

* * *

_You often see stories with Jack and kids or Jack and dogs. Thought it might be cute to see how he interacts with a tiny little kitten. And the image in my head when I wrote this was just adorable. Fluff, fluff - unabashed fluff! And, by the way, I talk to cats, so I'm having a go at myself too!_

_The war resumes in Part 8._


	8. Chapter 8

"SG-1; where's General O'Neill?"

I looked over at Daniel and Teal'c, who both shook their heads. "Sorry, sir; I've no idea," I told General Landry carefully, still not sure how to take him. He was definitely stricter than General O'Neill, and seemed much more rigid- I could only hope that he wasn't going to be like General Bauer.

I pulled at the Velcro covering my watch, then smacked it back down - one guess just who I'd gotten _that_ little habit from! I looked over at the General. "He's not answering his phone or his cell, sir?" I asked.

"No," Landry replied shortly. The man sounded pissed - not surprisingly. It had only been a couple of days since he'd hauled me over the coals for bringing our feud onto the base, and now he had to deal with an errant General. He was probably wondering just what kind of a nut barn he'd ended up at.

I was now a little worried, and so too were Teal'c and Daniel, judging by their faces. General O'Neill tended to play fast and loose with a lot of the rules, but he was never without his cell phone, as much as he hated the thing.

"Sir ... permission to go to his house?" I said. Jack O'Neill had made many enemies during his years - not all of them alien - and he had a very bad habit of leaving his front door open. It was such a trusting gesture in a former Black Ops soldier, but when Daniel called him on it once, he said he considered the contradiction part of his charm.

Landry looked at me closely. "Colonel?" he inquired.

I returned the steady regard. "He'd do the same for us, sir," I persisted, wondering if I was about to get my second chewing out of the week.

Now Landry sighed. "Yeah; he would," he said. "Permission granted, Colonel."

"Thank you, sir," I said.

"Dismissed."

* * *

I got off my bike and made my way to the General's little house. A simple one-story building with a garden, decking and a picturesque view of the surrounding countryside, it oozed a quaint charm that you wouldn't associate with the General.

I turned the handle on his front door, pleased when it didn't open. It was about time he started locking the door. I knocked on the door. "Sir?" I called.

No response.

I knocked a little louder. "Sir? It's Carter."

Still nothing.

Now worried, I took my little tool-kit out of my pocket, then quickly and efficiently picked his lock. After years of breaking out of Goa'uld cells, a mere lock wasn't going to hold me back.

I opened the door and walked cautiously in, drawing out my nine mil. I would've preferred my zat, but we weren't allowed to take Goa'uld weaponry topside.

I went into the living room and stopped short, only just managing to stifle a squeak of surprise.

For in a big leather recliner was one missing General O'Neill, clad in black tee shirt, dark blue jeans and black boots, quite clearly sleeping.

And a tiny orange-colored kitten lay curled up on said General's chest, purring deeply in time with the General's breathing. It opened an eye, regarded me lazily, then decided to wash one of its paws.

The General had one arm dangling by his side, while the other was propped up near him. His hand rested gently on the tiny kitten's head - he'd obviously fallen asleep stroking the kitten.

It was such a ... girly thing, but I could've sworn my heart melted at the sight. For all he could be so coarse and belligerent, the General had a very tender heart. Especially where kids and dogs were concerned - every kid we ever encountered quickly worked their way into his affections. And dogs went nuts for him.

But he'd never shown any fondness for cats. I don't think he'd ever hurt one, but he always seemed ... irritated by them, and couldn't understand how much I loved their sleek, elegant ways.

But this tiny little scrap lay trustingly on the bad-ass Special Forces officer's chest. Quite cute, really.

_The kitten? The General? Both?_ I shook my head. _Focus, Colonel!_ "Sir," I said firmly.

Nothing.

The man who slept with one eye open off world was like a log in his own home. I still remember when he'd been switched by Loki and we'd found him curled up in a ball, ass in the air, with his head under his pillow. 'Sleeping like a baby' was very apt when it came to General O'Neill at home. I smiled fondly.

"Sir!" I said a little louder.

The kitten mewed disapprovingly, then got up and flicked its tail under the General's nose. He sneezed and sat up abruptly, rubbing his nose. "Easy there, Red," he muttered, then opened his eyes. "Carter?"

"Sir; it's 0800 hours," I replied, wiping the fond smile off of my face. No way did I want the General to see that goofy expression!

"Christ." He shot up, dislodging the kitten, who mewed indignantly, and went to his bedroom, yanking his tee shirt over his head as he did so. "Why didn't ya just call, Carter?" he yelled from inside his bedroom.

"Uh ...". I was distracted momentarily by the flash of firm tanned skin as one bare-chested General rushed past me. It was funny; I'd known this man eight years - I was used to him ... so it tended to surprise me when I would get a glimpse of bare skin and be reminded of just how sexy he was. "Your cell's switched off and you weren't answering your house phone," I told him.

I heard the shower switch on, and I gulped, picturing the jeans sliding off of his long legs, followed by ... _Mind out of the gutter, Sam!_ "I'm gonna go now, sir!" I yelled. "I'll let General Landry know you're on your way!"

"Okay!" he hollered back. "Thanks, Carter!"

* * *

After the delayed briefing, General Landry dismissed us and I looked at O'Neill, who was sitting next to me - just like in the old days when he was still CO of SG-1. "A cat, sir?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow a la Teal'c. Funny how much more we all did that after eight years close friendship with the man.

The General grumbled and shifted in the chair. "Kitten," he muttered. He shrugged. "It was raining and she was starving - what was I supposed to do?"

I thought about that, wondering why I'd been so surprised - little lost things seemed to gravitate toward General O'Neill. But I couldn't resist tweaking him a little. "Awww, that's precious, sir," I said.

"Precious?" He grimaced. "Give me a break!"

"It is," I insisted. "Big bad Special Forces officer Jack O'Neill falls asleep with a tiny little kitten on his chest - quite the image."

He gave a reluctant chuckle. "As long as it stays between you and me, Carter ...," he said. "This is something the world does _not_ need to know."

"Agreed," I said. I _did_ want my revenge for that week of torment, but I didn't want those jarheads on SG-3 to laugh at him. And they would. "But it's going to cost you."

He squared his shoulders. "Okay. Lay it on me, Carter!"

I pulled my top lip in between my teeth. "Can't think of anything at the moment," I admitted. "I'll let you know."

"Fine," he grumbled, shifting once more in his chair. "I can take it."

"Yes, sir," I said, then got up from my own chair. "Anyway, I'd better go - heading off world in a half an hour."

"Yep ... you go; have fun," he said, giving me a smirk a mile wide.

_Fun ... Hah._ Trade negotiations with a race of people that reminded me of a group of CPAs. Not _my_ idea of fun. "Yes, sir," I said brightly. "Oh ... and, sir?"

"Yeah."

I leaned over to him, my nose close to his, and he watched me with wary brown eyes. "You've got cat hair on your shirt," I said, plucking said cat hair off of his collar. Bright orange cat hair.

* * *

_The image I had in my head when I wrote this part is from a lovely picture of RDA on where he's wearing jeans, boots and black tee shirt. If you want to see this picture, go to the site, choose the 'Media' option, then 'Gallery', then 'Jack', and it's on page 4. And if you don't agree that this is a gorgeous picture then you're insane (IMHO)._


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. To those people who queried where to find the picture that was mentioned but poorly referenced (still getting to grips with formatting things for this site), the full address is www dot jackfic dot com._

_And now on with the story!_

* * *

Carter leaned over to me, her lips close to mine, and I watched her warily. Was she about to plant one on me? _O'Neill; you are such an egomaniac!_ "You've got cat hair on your shirt." She waved some orange strands of hair at me.

Crap. There went the bad-ass General image! "Ah." I brushed at my black tee shirt and watched as several more cat hairs went floating away. "All gone now, Carter?"

She brushed at the side of my neck, and I started slightly, surprised at how ... _good_ that innocent contact felt. Yeah; she was gorgeous, but things had been so professional between us for so long that I thought I'd moved on.

I'd tried to - with Kerry Johnson. She was nice, beautiful, good sense of humor and she'd genuinely liked me. We were good together - and I don't _just_ mean in the sack! - but she decided that she needed more and had ended it shortly before Jacob died. And Carter had been engaged to Pete Shanahan.

I hadn't hated the guy - he barely came in under my radar - but he just seemed so ... white bread compared to Colonel Sam Carter. But she'd been happy with him, so I was happy for her. I couldn't have her as things stood and, although I _was_ a bastard in many ways, I'd never played dog in the manger.

But now ... now Pete was out of the picture, and I was no longer Carter's CO. And we'd started flirting again.

"All gone," Carter said. "See you later, sir?"

"Ah ...". I blinked and focused. "Right. See ya later."

"Hmmm." She put her hands on her hips, regarded me thoughtfully, then drooped her eyelid in a lazy wink before sauntering out of the briefing room, adding a little extra sway to the movement of her hips.

I changed my mind about that 'innocent' contact. There was nothing innocent about Carter. Evil, _evil_ woman.

* * *

The same evening

I pulled to a halt at the stoplight and gave a quick appreciative glance at the slender brunette in a red Vette next to me. Hey; I'm a guy - of course I looked! But I didn't leer. I was heading for that dangerous time - mid-life crisis - and she was easily half my age. I was determined not to become some pervy old geezer.

A movement appeared in my peripheral vision and I turned my attention back to the brunette, who ran her hand through her hair before blowing me a kiss. "Hey, there, handsome," she drawled.

"Hi," I replied, nonplused. I'd gotten used to women coming onto me over the years - some subtly, some not so much - but it had usually happened when I was in the Class A's. Seems women like a guy in uniform.

But at this moment, I was in a black tee shirt and jeans that had seen better days, my eyes were covered by shades and the wind had blown my military crop every which way so it looked even more chaotic than usual.

"Traffic's a bitch, huh?" she continued, waving her hand to the great queues of cars and trucks, backed up for near on a mile.

"Yeah," I grunted, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. It had been one meeting after another today and the last one had been the worst. Budgets ... yech! I whipped off my sunglasses and massaged the bridge of my nose.

"So ... no ring, no tan line, no briefcase. You're not a yuppie and you're not married. So far so good," the woman said, not seeming to care about my monosyllabic responses. "I'm Claire."

"Jack," I replied. "And you're on the money so far." It had been a while since I'd flirted, but I found I was starting to enjoy this. I looked over at her. "No ring, no tan line, no briefcase," I repeated. "Movie industry or rich daddy?"

She chuckled. "God; no!" she said. "No ... I work as a clerk at a Corvette dealership - I'm just taking this baby out for a test run before it goes up for sale."

"Ah."

"So ... what do _you_ do, Jack?"

"Air Force," I replied.

"Right ...". She looked at me assessingly. "A Colonel?"

"Till a year ago," I said. "Then I made Brigadier."

"Really; wouldn't have pegged you as a desk jockey," she replied. She gave me a slow smile. "You still have that _I know how to kill you in a hundred different ways_ look about you."

"Yeah?" I was pleased that I'd evidently lost nothing during my year chained to a desk.

"Oh, yeah," she replied. "Mygodfather had a similar look - he was the toughest bastard ever ... except at home. He was Special Forces."

"Ah. Anyone I might have known?"

"Frank Cromwell."

Talk about a conversation killer. My hands clenched on the steering wheel. Cromwell had been dead for nearly seven years, but I still couldn't forgive him for leaving me to rot in that Iraqi jail.

* * *

Now in a foul mood, I let myself into the house and headed straight to the kitchen, dumping my bags on the island counter. A skitter of tiny claws could be heard on the polished floorboards and Red came barreling in, evidently delighted to see her new human.

Unfortunately, she hadn't yet learned how to stop and she collided with my jeans-clad leg, giving an indignant mew.

I bent down and scooped her up, scritching gently behind one ear. She purred blissfully and stuck her little nose into my face. "Miss me much?" I asked. I chuckled slightly at my own foolishness, but couldn't help feeling pleased at the rapturous welcome. I'd gotten used to being alone since the divorce, and had forgotten how nice it could be to have someone waiting for you.

She scrabbled her way onto my shoulder and proceeded to drape herself round my neck like a warm - fuzzy - necktie. I shook my head as I proceeded to unpack my groceries. "Cats are so weird," I mumbled.

Groceries unpacked and kitten still round my neck, I poured some kitten formula into a saucer and put it on the worktop. "Hey, Red; chow's up," I said.

Nada.

I attempted to pluck her off my shoulder, but she just dug her little claws in - not enough to do any damage, but enough to warn me against trying to move her again. _Fine._ I opened the refrigerator and pulled out one of my take-out cartons - no scientific experiments gone wrong for once.

Digging a fork into the noodles, I made my way into the living room and sat down on the settee. The doorbell rang and Red dug her claws in with fright. "Crap!" I yelped, then got up when the bell rang again. "Christ; where's the fire?" I grumbled.

I yanked open the door and saw one leggy blonde Colonel in a pale blue knee-length skirt, simple tee shirt and sandals that strapped round her ankles. _Nice._ "Hey," I said.

"Hi, sir," she replied. She turned and knelt down, giving me a flash of pale slim thigh - _pretty sweet_ - then got back up with a large box full of cat toys. "I thought you might like these for the kitten," she said. "They belonged to Schrodinger."

"Thanks, Carter," I said. I held open the door for her. "Ya wanna bring 'em in?"

"Sure." She gave me a definite smirk. "Nice scarf, sir," she added.

When had she become such a smart ass? I was definitely rubbing off on her, and not in a fun sexy way either. "Nice legs," I replied.

She nearly dropped the box. _Hah! Round one to O'Neill!_ "Sir?" she squeaked.

"A-ah! Carter; we're off duty and I'm no longer your CO," I said, hoping to rattle her even further. "You know my name - use it."

She blinked, and I could almost _hear_ the cogs in her giant brain whizzing around. Then a strange smile appeared on her lips. "Of course ... Jack," she said in a purr to rival Red, then added; "You have nice legs too."

_Round two to Carter_, I conceded reluctantly as she went into my living room and began to sort out the toys. Red jumped off my shoulders and headed over to the new human to check her out.

She gave Carter a cautious sniffing, and appeared to approve, for she began batting happily at one of the toys, sending it skittering over the floor. Carter gave Red a gentle stroke. "She's really cute," she said, getting up and depriving me of the view of her long legs. _Mean._ "Have you picked a name yet?"

I shrugged. "I've been calling her Red," I said.

"Sir; that's lame!" she protested. "Call her something that _means_ something! Maybe a cute name or a woman you admire?"

"I could call her Sam," I said mischievously. "But the gossips on base would have a field day if they heard me talking about having Sam wake me up by licking my nose and sleeping on my chest."

She started scratching behind Red's neck, sending the kitten into the throes of ecstasy. "I bet that's a pretty nice place to sleep, Jack," she commented absently.

"Carter?"

She looked horrified. "Crap; did I say that out loud?"

"Yep." I tried to hold back my laughter. I failed and creased up at the expression on Carter's face.

She looked at me in combined horror and mortification, then her eyes crinkled up and she began to laugh also. One of the many good things about Sam Carter - she knew how to laugh at herself. A far cry from the stick-up-her-butt officer she'd been at our first meeting. "After a day with the Burani, I needed that giggle!" she said as we calmed down.

I nodded my head - I'd needed a laugh too after running into Cromwell's god-daughter and being yanked back to one of my many bad memories. "Yeah," I said. I waved my hand to the kitchen. "Fancy a beer, Carter?"

"Ah ... yeah; sure," she said. She made her way over to my settee, and sat down, smoothing her skirt back down to her knees. "So ... any idea where she came from?" she added.

"Zip," I called as I made my way back to my refrigerator, pulling out two bottles of beer. "Figure she was either dumped or she came from one of the feral cats that seem to prowl around."

Red - maybe sensing we were talking about her - followed me into the kitchen and dug her claws into my pant leg. I already knew what that meant, and I bent and scooped her up, letting her drape over my shoulder once more. Geez; even my pet kitten was weird!

I went back into the living room and handed Carter her beer, then sat down in the recliner. I opened my beer and took a long pull, then noticed her examining me with that look she tended to reserve for really bizarre bits of technology. "What?" I grumbled.

She smiled at me. "You should call her Hathor, sir," she said.

I choked and coughed, startling my furry collar. "Christ, Carter!" I gasped. "Why would I name this little critter after that snaky bitch?"

She got up and sat down on the arm of my chair, stroking the kitten's head. "Because she's female, she's got red hair and ... she's got you wrapped around her little finger, _Jack_," she taunted. The smile became a smirk.

How to wipe that smirk off her face? I'd always been a man of action rather than words. I curled my free hand round her neck, muttered "You talk too much, Carter," then covered her lips with mine.

* * *

_Questionablelight - thanks for the cat on shoulder idea! Hope you didn't mind me pinching that for Red and Jack._


	10. Chapter 10

Wow - Part 10 already. Who'd believe this started life as a one-shot based on my giggles watching McKay's recording on the Atlantis episode Letters from Pegasus? I'm glad people are liking it (based on the reviews I've received so far - just gone past the half-century mark).

_I'm not up to speed with some of the acronyms people use during reviews and would be glad for clarification of the following:-_

_- LMAO_

_- ROTFLMHO_

_- OMG_

_Thank you!_

_And now on with the story (Finally!). This chapter is a double POV. Beware: very little fluff! Highly angsty and with some bad language._

* * *

Sam

I smiled at the General. "You should call her Hathor, sir," I said.

He choked and coughed. "Christ, Carter!" he gasped. "Why would I name this little critter after that snaky bitch?"

_Could I pull this off?_ I got up and sat down on the arm of his chair, stroking the kitten's head. "Because she's female, she's got red hair and ... she's got you wrapped around her little finger, _Jack_," I taunted.

Suddenly, a warm hand curved round my neck. The General muttered, "You talk too much, Carter," then he kissed me.

Hard and fast - I didn't have time to enjoy it before he released me, looking at me with angry eyes. "Sir?" I said.

"That bitch raped Daniel, tried to turn me into a freakin' Jaffa, tried to snake me and made us believe everyone else was dead," he said in low deadly tones.

_Oh, God ..._ He'd always claimed he didn't remember anything of that first encounter with Hathor. "I'm sorry, sir," I said, losing my taste for the silly games we'd been playing. When I thought about it, he was completely right. Daniel had been drugged by Hathor - he hadn't been a willing sexual partner. That was rape. I think women sometimes forget that men could get raped too.

"Spare me the platitudes, Carter," he said now, getting up from the recliner so abruptly that I staggered. "Just don't even _try_ to joke with me about her."

"Yes, sir," I said formally, respecting the barriers the General was putting up. He'd always been an intensely private man and for him to share even a little bit of what he'd felt about Hathor had taken a lot out of him. I put down my unopened bottle. "I should go, sir," I added, stroking the kitten who had taken the General's place on the recliner. "I hope she enjoys the toys."

His eyes softened slightly, but his mouth was still a tight firm line, and I wondered what was going through his head right now. "Thanks, Carter," he said.

* * *

Jack

The door closed silently behind Carter and I sighed, marveling at how I'd gone so quickly from flirting to seething anger. Not with Carter. Not even the snaky bitch-queen Hathor. I'd killed her and managed to resolve some of my issues with her by doing that.

It was what she'd done to Daniel that still burned me up. And Carter had come in for the backlash. Unfortunately, meeting Cromwell's god-daughter had reminded me of Iraq with all its attendant horrors and thinking about Hathor at the same time had just been too much.

I picked up Red and sat back down, letting her curl up in an impossibly small ball on my thigh as I found my thoughts going back to dark places - places I would never leave behind. I could hide from my memories, joke, laugh, flirt, but the memories would always be there.

I had horrible, ugly things in my past. Things that I wasn't proud of, and things that I _shouldn't_ be proud of, but was.

Like my skill at killing. I was proud of that. The knife across the throat, the bullet between the eyes, the drugging then drowning ... The Special Forces division had picked up very quickly on this particular skill of mine and I'd found myself in the murky world of Black Ops.

It was on one of these unofficial missions that I was left for dead in Iraq. Cromwell hadn't even thought to investigate further and had bugged out. And I'd spent four months as a 'guest' of the Iraqis, where I'd honed my killing skills.

By the time I was rescued, I'd been able to add garroting, hanging and eviscerating to my dubious abilities.

But, for all my skill, I'd never been able to kill that sick, sadistic bastard who'd run the POW camp.

Rape. An ugly word for an ugly act. My team had never understood why I'd spent so much time with Daniel after _she_ had left the SGC. Especially considering I'd claimed not to remember anything.

That had been a lie. I remembered _everything_. The way her smooth skin, firm flat stomach and soft full breasts had felt pressing up against my own naked chest ... the strange burning as she altered my physiology to enable me to carry her young ... the pleasure I felt when she gave me the smallest smile.

And Daniel had gone through more than that. He'd also had the guilt of a little part of him (the drugged-out part) having enjoyed it, and feeling like he'd betrayed Sha're. Strange as it may sound, when he finally accepted that he _had_ been raped, he was able to let go of some of his guilt. Drug-induced sex was rape.

But it had taken many weeks to get him to that point, and I'd been with him for every anguished outpouring. He never knew why I'd been the one to listen to him but, for once, had chosen not to question me. I would never have told him, anyway.

Rape.

Men raped women.

Women raped women.

Women raped men.

Men raped men.

And a certain group of Iraqi soldiers raped American POWs.

I'd been luckier than some of my fellow prisoners. Some of them had been permanently damaged by their experiences. Some hadn't lived to tell their tale. The guard assigned to me had been new, young and impressionable, and wanted to please his CO, but developed a crush on me. He'd tried to be gentle, to prepare me, had wanted to kiss me.

And a small part of me was grateful for his care. At least I'd been able to return to a full and _very_ enjoyable active sex life after my recovery period.

It hadn't stopped me from killing him the first chance I got, though. When he was lying on his back, weak and spent after enjoying my body, I stabbed him in the guts with his own knife, then slit his throat. I'd gotten out of the camp that night and had been picked up by a group of Marines near Basra, emaciated and feverish.

I winced as I felt claws dig into my thigh, and looked down to see Red paddling away, trying to rearrange the muscles into a more comfortable nest. I smiled slightly and plucked her off my leg, laying her down on the settee. She mewed grumpily, stretched, then curled up once more.

Carter was right, I mused, trying to steer my thoughts away from my black past. 'Red' _was_ a pretty lame name. What had she suggested? Something cute or a woman I admired? "Lucy?" I said out loud.

Nothing.

"Marge? Lisa? Patty? Selma?"

Squat. Evidently not a Simpsons fan.

And then it hit me. The one thing that had kept me going through all the shit I'd had in my life. The one thing this tiny little scrap of life represented. Asha. The Indian for 'hope'.

"Asha," I murmured. Red looked up and eyed me quizzically then got up and made her way to the edge of the settee, looking at me pleadingly. I leaned over and picked her up, letting her drape over my shoulder. "Asha it is," I said.

While there is life, there is always hope.

* * *

_This was very angsty, but I truly believe Sam bypassed good taste when she joked about a serial-killing mind-controlling rapist to one of the victims. A little more angst to come in the next part, but I will start getting things back on a lighter footing soon, I promise. I just don't think that someone with Jack's past can be all fun and games. Something has to come back to bite him in the ass once in a while._

_I think Asha is a lovely name - my six month niece is called Asha Rose, and she's very cute, so am probably biased. LOL._


	11. Chapter 11

_Thanks to the people who clarified the review acronyms for me!_

* * *

I'd gotten about halfway down the street when I stopped. Why did we do this? Anytime we came anywhere near real feelings, one or both of us would back off.

Sometimes I wished we'd never left it in that damn room. We could have been great together - we could have been a disaster - but at least we would have known.

And now the General would be sitting at home brooding. His happy go lucky charm was a mask for the horrors that lurked inside him. When he'd been leading SG-1, he hadn't had much time for brooding, but the last year ... I closed my eyes. The man had seemed to age overnight, a deep unhappiness taking up permanent residence on his face.

Then we'd gone to the cabin and he'd been like the Jack O'Neill I'd known before Ba'al ... before Pete ... before Janet ...

With a courage I hadn't known I possessed, I did a brisk 180 and rapidly found myself back on the General's doorstep. I knocked gently. The door opened and the General looked at me, the kitten draped once more round his neck. "Carter," he said gruffly.

Yeah ... he'd been brooding. "Sir," I replied properly. Then I sighed like a leaky tire. "I'm sorry for what I said; it was stupid and thoughtless."

He looked at me narrowly, then lifted up a hand to stroke the kitten. She purred and cuddled into his neck. I never thought I'd be envious of a tiny orange cat. "C'mon in," he said, holding the door open to allow me to pass.

I breathed out a sigh of relief and followed him in, then sat on the settee while he resumed his position on the recliner. "Drink your beer, Carter," he said.

I opened the beer and took a swallow, then looked over at him. Legs crossed at the ankles, eyes half-closed and kitten cuddled up to him, he looked ... at peace. I smiled slightly.

"What?" he asked, stroking the kitten's small body.

"I never would've pictured you with a cat, sir, but she seems to really love you," I said.

He grumbled and shifted slightly, but didn't stop his rhythmic stroking. "Well, she's a baby - what does she know?"

Beneath that joking response was a kernel of real vulnerability. The General always seemed surprised when people showed him affection, as if he believed he didn't deserve it. That the death of his son meant he had to spend the rest of his life alone.

But he had so much to give. It didn't seem right.

I thought briefly of Laira; the woman we'd met on P5C 768. She'd taken a real shine to the then-Colonel, telling him one of her people's folk tales as we waited to see the meteor shower, and teasing him about his ever-present impatience.

When he'd become trapped on Edora, I'd missed him and had worked hard to get him back. I'd had no romantic feelings for him at that point in our lives, so I'd not been hurt that he and Laira had obviously gotten together.

He'd been there for three months after all. The Colonel was a lonely man and Laira was a nice, caring woman. When we left, he promised to go back and see her. He managed to do so every couple of months, although the visits tapered off a little after she remarried, and it had now been four months since his last visit.

"Carter?"

I jerked up from my musing to find myself staring at the General's black-covered abdomen. Nice flat abdomen too ... "Sorry, sir," I said, willing my gaze not to go lower. "Just thinking."

"Of course," he said, tipping his beer bottle to me in a silent toast. He sat down next to me and flicked the bottle cap into the fireplace. "I bet you don't even quit in your dreams."

I smiled - he was back to teasing me about over-thinking. Things were getting back to normal. "Guilty as charged," I admitted. "I dreamed last night I was recreating the theory of relativity."

He shook his head with a small smile. "Only you, Carter ... only you." He took a pull of his beer. "Me ... there was a beach, the Baywatch women and definite frolicking."

I laughed - he was a such a _guy_ at times. "Highly unoriginal, sir," I said. The kitten opened her eyes and looked over at me, then decided to come and investigate me once more.

I held out my hand and let her sniff my fingers. Seems she approved for she climbed onto my thigh, curled up into a ball and went back to sleep. I ran a finger over her head. "She really _is_ sweet, sir," I offered. "Any progress on the name?"

"Yeah," he said. "Asha."

Asha? Unusual, lyrical and poetic. Not what I would've expected. I kinda thought he would've named her after a Simpsons character. It reminded me that the General was nowhere near the uncomplicated man he portrayed - he had depths within depths. "Asha," I repeated. "Nice. Does it mean anything?"

He shifted again. "Hope," he said. "It means hope." He sat back and linked his hands behind his head. "Bet ya thought I was gonna name her after a Simpsons character?" he teased.

I blinked. When did he add omniscience to his many skills? "Guilty, sir," I laughed.

He gave a low chuckle. "It wasn't for lack of trying," he said. "She's obviously not a Simpsons fan."

I gasped. "Sacrilege, sir!" I mocked.

"Samantha ...," he drawled suddenly, making me gasp - the tone was so sexy. "Do _not_ mock a superior officer."

I blinked, forcing my thoughts out of the gutter into which that velvety drawl had dragged me. "Yes, sir," I said. I snickered. "I should leave that for you."

"Right!" He gave me a smirk. "And you think you can knock off the 'sir' for a while?"

"I can do that ... _Jack_," I said, my eyes narrowing. The General feigned ignorance about a lot of things, but he had to know that calling me by my full name in such a low purring tone had ... _done_ things to me.

"Uh-huh," he said skeptically.

"I can." And now Sam the flirt took over from Sam the USAF Colonel. I shifted slightly, allowing the skirt to ride an inch or two up my legs - even before today, I'd known the General liked my legs.

He had nice legs too. And gorgeous eyes, great smile, strong arms and tight, firm ass. Quite a package.

His hand landed on my knee. "Playing with fire, _Colonel_," he taunted softly.

Good Lord; the man was the human furnace. You'd never get cold snuggled up to him during the night! "Oh, I think I can handle it, _General_," I shot back, squeezing his healthy knee.

He chuckled huskily. "Shut up, Sam," he replied, sliding his fingers into my hair and pressing a kiss to my lips. Not like the hard angry kiss of earlier - but a soft tender one. It was brief and light, but held passion and promise.

He was the only man on Earth who could tell me to shut up and not get a boot up his ass. Especially if he was going to call me Sam and kiss me afterward. His lips were soft against mine and I opened my lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss, before stroking my tongue along his. No way was I staying a passive bystander in this long-overdue kiss!

_Great kisser_, I thought hazily. But what else _could_ he be, with that sexy mouth and long artist's fingers? I'd recognized that he was an attractive man the day I'd met him, but at the time I'd also thought he was a total jerk. Although it hadn't stopped me trying to seduce him under the effects of the Broca virus ...

_Admit it, Sam! It wasn't just the virus. That had given you permission and the courage to jump him, but if that was all, would you have clung to the memory of soft warm lips, that hint of tongue, and the way he nuzzled your neck before hauling you kicking and screaming to the Infirmary?_

And speaking of nuzzling ... his soft lips were now working at the hollow of my throat. _Good Lord, the man has skills._ I gasped and slid my own hands into his chaotic hair, lifting his face up to mine. "Fair's fair," I said, then dipped my head, concentrating on the pulse point just below his ear.

Just as things were heading past PG rating, I heard a distinct mew. _Huh?_ The General's chest heaved - _you're calling him 'The General' still?_ - and he laughed softly. "Oh, _now_ you're hungry, huh?"

He got up and scooped up the little kitten. "Great timing, Asha!" I mumbled.

I could've sworn the little bundle looked at me smugly before she nuzzled into the General's chest. I shook my head - the General was so whipped, and he didn't even know it.

* * *

_And we're back to the fluff!_


	12. Chapter 12

Hank Landry

I felt like whining "Get a room already!"

But two-star Generals didn't whine. We yelled. We barked. But we didn't whine.

It just didn't happen.

I'd been surprised when I was offered this command - a bunch of scientists doing deep space radar telemetry? Then I learned that Jack O'Neill was currently the CO and changed my mind.

O'Neill and I went way back - further back than either of us liked to admit - and I knew the man thrived on action and the unknown. So when I'd been given clearance and finally found out what truly went on under Cheyenne Mountain, I hadn't had to think any further before accepting command.

Then I got here and found myself ... frustrated. People were so good at their jobs, affording me very few opportunities for yelling. Colonel Carter and Daniel Jackson were both geniuses and damn good soldiers too - despite Jackson's civilian status. Teal'c was a formidable warrior, the strong and silent type, and treated everybody with a deep respect.

The SFs were smart and quick, the clerical staff polite and efficient ... They were all the best of the best, and I was proud to be associated with them. Even though I missed the yelling.

Then O'Neill and Carter brought a silly feud onto the base and that had given me the opportunity to do some yelling. A small part of me had snickered at Carter's creativity, but she would never know that.

They both promised to keep their feud out of work and I breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that things would go back to whatever passed for normal around here.

Not so.

For several days now, Brigadier General Jack O'Neill and Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter had practically been playing footsie with each other. These two seasoned and highly decorated soldiers were definitely flirting. Unless you knew one or both parties, you'd never know it, but the signs were there. The smirks, the sideways glances, the nudges.

This was one of the strangest commands I'd ever had.

* * *

Daniel

During the briefing, I saw Jack doodling on his pad and smiled. One of the few constants in a universe full of change was Jack and his twitchy fingers. I leaned over slightly and caught a glimpse of a curvy woman in a sarong. The woman bore a strong resemblance to a certain blonde Colonel.

Jack flipped the page quickly and gave me the patented O'Neill death glare - the one that made new recruits scurry for cover. It made me want to laugh. Who the hell did he think he was fooling? If he and Sam _weren't_ involved, then it was only a matter of time.

I looked over at Teal'c and raised my eyebrows. _Geez, get a room, guys._

* * *

Teal'c

Colonel Carter and O'Neill were acting strangely - even for them. Two strong warriors were behaving like unsure adolescents. They sent each other sly smiles, nudged each other and teased.

I believe Daniel Jackson would say at this point "Get a room, guys". I quite agree.

The sexual energy vibrated through the briefing room - even General Landry seemed aware of it by the hard looks he gave O'Neill. He seemed like he would be a good leader - strong and disciplined - but I would not find out.

I had chosen to return to Dakara to take my seat on the newly formed Jaffa Council and Daniel Jackson was to join the Atlantis expedition. O'Neill would leave for Washington in a week and Colonel Carter was considering new options.

SG-1 was no more.

It was unfortunate, but change comes to everyone. Sometimes it is for the good, sometimes not, but you cannot fight change.

* * *

George Hammond

I shifted back in my big leather chair, reflecting that I would miss it. I'd literally kicked Jack out of it when I'd gone back to the SGC a few months ago, and had told him to ship it to DC for me.

But there was no place for this chair on the Prometheus. My final command before retirement. But that's what I'd thought about the SGC. That was supposed to have been a short simple command - _hah._

That little bubble had been burst when one Colonel Jack O'Neill ("_Retired_" he'd corrected me snarkily) had appeared in my office, unshaved and in civvies, and had admitted to omitting things out of his report.

And his second mission to Abydos had led to yours truly being on the hot seat for seven years of the biggest cover-up in America's military history. It had been one wild ride.

I picked up the box and looked at the set of silver stars inside. When Jack officially took over Homeworld Security, he would be promoted again. Major General Jack O'Neill. Good Lord.

There was no denying he deserved it. What the man had gone through for his country, for the planet, entitled him to promotion a dozen times over. But there was also no denying that his maverick attitude, his creativity with the rules, his insubordination had delayed his promotion from Colonel to Brigadier by several years.

That had been a good thing, though. Jack hadn't been mentally or physically ready to come out of the field, even though he was at the age where most field officers were moved to desk jobs. Theman was fitter than people half his age, and thrived on the action of leading SG-1.

I know people had been surprised when he'd accepted command of the SGC shortly after being revived by Thor - his favorite little alien buddy. And that was one of the strangest pairings in the galaxy - the deliberately dense soldier and the super-smart Asgard.

But I hadn't been surprised. After Doctor Fraiser's death, I'd seen the fatigue begin to etch Jack's face. He was tired. Tired of fighting a war without end, tired of death. There was only so much a man could go through before it started to eat away at you.

And there was the issue of his much-abused knee. He'd known and I'd known that it wouldn't last much longer. And he didn't want to risk becoming a liability to his team.

So he accepted the promotion and took charge of the SGC. If he couldn't protect his people physically, he could at least be in charge of those that did.

He was a good man. And he deserved this second star. And if that meant that he was able to pursue ... ahem ... _other_ options, then I was behind him all the way.

I was neither blind nor stupid. I'd known he and Sam Carter had strong feelings for each other. But they'd set them aside for years to fight the Goa'uld and I was proud of them for that. They could have chosen to sneak around, but both were too honorable, despite Jack's assertions that he was not actually that nice of a guy.

But now ... now Jack was no longer her commanding officer - they wouldn't even be working together. Maybe these two loyal officers would finally realize they belonged together as, sadly, other relationships hadn't worked out for them.

I closed the box with a snap. _Good luck, son_, I thought.

* * *

Hank Landry

I strolled into the commissary and sat next to O'Neill, who was with his former SG-1 team-mates. "I think we should do something to mark your leaving, Jack," I said bluntly.

Jack shifted uneasily - the man had been one of the most restless of the young Airmen who'd served under my command, and it seemed age hadn't done anything to cure him of his wriggling. "Ah, that's okay, sir," he said. "I'm not into big affairs."

"Something low-key, then," Doctor Jackson said. "C'mon Jack; you let your last big move slide by without acknowledgment. You can't expect us to let _this_ one go too?"

O'Neill scowled at the younger man, but Jackson didn't even blink. I'd seen hardened ten-year vets crumble under the O'Neill glare, but the blue-eyed linguist shrugged it off. "Fine," O'Neill grumbled. "What d'you suggest?"

Something in their interactions informed me that there was more to these two than child-like squabbling. They alternated between protecting each other and fighting like cat and dog. The best analogy I could come up with was 'brothers'. O'Neill was like a big brother to the orphaned Jackson; nagging him, protecting him, teasing him.

Jackson frowned slightly. "What about O'Malley's?" he suggested.

"_No!_" O'Neill and Carter both shouted.

Perhaps Carter could see the confusion on my face, because she added, "Look up Ataniks in our mission reports from 2000 to 2001 and you'll understand, sir," she said. She went a delicate pink. "Not one of our finest moments."

Now Jackson went pink. "Right ...," he said slowly. He tapped his forehead. "And to think I thought I'd got everything back."

I amended my earlier assessment. This was _the_ strangest command I'd ever had.

* * *

_I think I've now touched on the changes that will roll in Season 9, as far as I know based on the few spoilers I've heard. The rest of this story will therefore be pure speculation or 'what should have been'._

_More fluff in the next part - I promise!_


	13. Chapter 13

_This first POV was inspired by Dietcokechic's The Barista series, also on this site. I liked the idea of a first person POV, and having that person not be associated with the SGC in any way, so thought I'd have a go at it. Can't compare with the Barista series, but it's my wee homage. Read Barista - highly recommended!_

_I'm on such a roll with this story - helped along by the ton of great reviews I'm getting from you wonderful readers (you guys rock!). I really don't want to end this story, but I know I have to. Just ... not yet._

* * *

I sighed and tapped my pen against my teeth as I checked the list of appointments for the day.

9:20 - Jack O'Neill: kitten for check-up

9:50 - Clarissa Waters: mastiff for neutering

10:20 - Yadda, yadda, yadda

10:50 - Blah, blah, blah

11:20 - The thing, the thing, the thing

You get the idea!

Being a weekend receptionist at a vet's wasn't exactly the most exciting job, but it helped pay my tuition. And it allowed me to people-watch. I would sometimes make up stories about the various people who came in. This guy was actually a smuggler and hid his drugs in the dog's collar. That woman used to be a nun, but fell in love with the guy with her, who'd been a priest.

That kind of crap.

How to combat the boredom.

9:20 rolled round and the door opened.

And I did a classic double-take.

The man entering was gorgeous.

Tall, slim but well-built, confident, dressed in khakis and a black tee shirt and with a pet carrier in his hand and shades in the other one. A lot older than I was - somewhere between forty and dead - he had gray hair cut very short, a strikingly handsome face and deep brown eyes.

I aimed my best smile at him. "Good morning, sir," I said brightly.

"Morning," he said. _Great voice too! A sexy low baritone, with a hint of velvet._ I'd be dining out on this memory for days to come. He lifted up the pet carrier. "Jack O'Neill."

I blinked when I saw the tiny orange kitten inside. Something about this guy said he wasn't your typical cat person. Maybe he was just doing someone a favor. The kitten mewed piteously, and Jack smiled softly. Then again ...

"She's a brat," he said, opening the door to the carrier and letting the kitten scrabble up his chest to cuddle close to his neck. She purred lustily, snuffling into his skin.

_Can't say I blame you, kitten - looks like a nice place to be_, I thought. "If you'll just take a seat, sir ...," I said, waving my hand to a nearby chair. "I'll need you to fill out these forms before Doctor Wilson sees you."

"For cryin' out loud!" Jack ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up stupidly. He took the pen from me and made his way swiftly through the paperwork with the air of someone who was far too accustomed to piles of forms. He hadn't struck me as the executive type, with that strong fit body, but maybe he worked out.

While he worked, his cell rang and he grumbled something in ... _Russian?_ ... before flipping the cell open. "O'Neill," he barked at his caller. He listened to whoever was on the other hand while still filling in the forms. "Sir; I'll be at the Pentagon in two days - can't this wait till I get there?" he complained.

The Pentagon? Had to be military. I could totally see this guy in a blue uniform with ribbons across his chest. _Oh, very, very sexy. Christ, woman; you need to get laid!_

I returned to my work reluctantly when I realized I'd been staring at Jack's sexy brown eyes for several seconds. He sauntered over to me and slapped down the pile of forms. "There ya go," he said.

"Thank you," I replied. I took the first form, ready to start inputting his details into the computer. 'Jack O'Neill, US Air Force'. _Oh, cool; a jet pilot. Very hot._ 'Brigadier General'. _A high-ranking jet pilot. Even hotter._ I knew nothing about the military, but I'd always liked powerful men. And if they happened to be tall, broad-shouldered with eyes to die for and a great butt, then that was just so much icing on the cake. _Sweeeet._

The door opened and a blonde woman came in. Mid thirties, wide blue eyes, and a tall slim frame. She headed straight over to my sexy pilot. "Managed to get parked, sir," she said with a warm smile. _Sir?_

He returned the smile. "Cool," he said simply, but the affection on his face showed there was something more between them than a General and a subordinate. "Thanks for doing this."

She gave him a wide smile, showing straight white teeth. "No problem," she said. "But remember our agreement?" She patted the shoulder without the kitten. "I'm Sam; you're Jack."

Laughter lit up his face, knocking years off of him. "I can do that, _Sam_," he said in a purr that rivaled that of the kitten snuggled into his neck.

_Bitch._ The tall leggy blonde could have any man she wanted, and she had this gorgeous guy. What _was_ it with guys and blondes? I put my hand up to my mouse-brown hair, wondering if it was time to go blonde like my friends had been telling me to for years.

* * *

Jack

After Asha's check-up - where she'd been pronounced to be in good health and given the first of her vaccinations - I bundled one indignant kitten back into the pet carrier and followed Carter ... _Sam_, I corrected ... back to her car. My truck was being detailed at the moment, as I was about to put it up for sale, so Sam had offered to run me here.

"Thanks for doing this, Carter," I offered, stowing the pet carrier on the back seat and settling into the passenger seat.

She gave me another million dollar Sam smile; that one that turned me from a mature ... kinda ... guy into a drooling imbecile. "You're welcome," she said, sliding into the driver's seat and patting my thigh. Evil woman. "But the name's Sam, remember."

"Right."

Since that amazing kiss a few days ago, we'd started spending time together - getting to know each other as Jack and Sam rather than as General and Colonel - and found that we liked each other as Jack and Sam. Yeah; her techno-babble annoyed me, and she just didn't get my love for the Simpsons, but hey nobody's perfect!

And things about me doubtless pissed her off. I wasn't as stupid as I made out, but I wasn't in the Sam Carter league. That had to be frustrating for her. Then there was my 'shoot first, send flowers later' style. It worked for me, but Sam had always been more diplomatic than me.

We'd seen each other through some of the best and worst moments of the last eight years - for the most part. I'd withdrawn after Daniel had ascended - I just couldn't deal with her grief as well as my own; I'd needed to get back out there. The 'way of the warrior crap', she called it. T had understood - he was _so_ my main man.

We'd started getting close again after a few months, joining together to tease Jonas. Then after Ba'al, she'd pulled back. The one time I needed to share some of what had been done to me, and she wasn't there. In retrospect, I knew she felt guilty - she'd been the one to persuade me to take Kanan - but at the time, it had just been the nail in the coffin for our friendship.

So, yeah ... In some ways, we'd been a couple for a long time. Through the bad times, the good, and the just plain weird. I thought of a certain loop-inspired kiss and smirked. And the good/weird.

"What?" she said, pulling smoothly out of the parking lot.

"Ah, nothin'," I said, giving her my most innocent look. "Just reminiscing."

She looked at me suspiciously, but chose not to pursue it. I wouldn't have told her anyway - she'd kick my sorry ass from here to Sunday. "I'm going to miss you, Jack," she confided as she drove down the busy street. "I just wish we could have done this sooner."

"Yeah ... well," I said, less than articulately. "It's not like I'm leaving the planet. Besides, you'll be so engrossed in your work you won't even remember me half the time." A couple days ago, she'd received orders transferring her temporarily to R&D at Area 51 - for a period of up to six months. She'd accepted happily, citing her wish to remain on world for a while - and would transfer there shortly after my move to DC.

She gave a wicked smirk. "I know I get excited about my job, but with you, O'Neill, it's a case of once seen, never forgotten."

I processed that statement, unsure whether it was a compliment or not, decided it wasn't, and decided to ignore it. "I'll miss you too, Sam." From the back seat, Asha gave a piteous mew, and I shifted round to unlock the pet carrier.

"Don't, Jack!" Sam said. "What if we're in an accident?"

"Ah. Right," I said. I shrugged at my fuzzy constant companion. "Sorry, baby," I added, sitting back down. Sam giggled. I stared at her. "What?"

"Sorry," she said, then giggled again. "I just never thought I'd see you - one of the most powerful men on the planet - so thoroughly ... whipped."

_Whipped?_

I glared at her, but she didn't exactly seem intimidated, breaking into fresh giggles as we pulled to a halt at a stoplight."And by a two-ounce orange ball of fluff, too!"

"What have I told you about giggling, Colonel?" I inquired in a would-be stern fashion. I actually liked her giggle - it showed the silly side of Sam Carter that we didn't get to see very often - but I wasn't about to let her know that yet.

"Sorry, sir," she said, straightening her face. Then she giggled again.

I quickly undid our seatbelts, then took her face in my hands, shutting her up in one of the more fun ways. She sighed happily, a hand sliding round my neck to tangle in my hair, and we lost ourselves in each other.

Her other hand was by no means idle. It slid under my tee shirt, conducting a survey of my chest and abdomen. And all sorts of ... _feelings_ came to life.

The honking of a horn dragged me away from Sam and I looked up as a truck full of teenage boys zipped past, yelling and hooting encouragement. "Christ!" I muttered, doing up my belt once more as Sam did hers up and drove on. What was it about this woman that made me feel like a teenager?

Sam just giggled again, although the wide dilated eyes, swollen lips and short breaths she took told me she wasn't unaffected by what had just happened.

A part of me had thought that if we ever finally got our acts together, it could be horrible. Would it turn out that we'd been beating a dead horse? Had we built each other up so much that we could never live up to it? Well, I had my answer. We wouldn't just be good - we'd be amazing. I'd never been a fan of science, but I'd always liked a certain kind of chemistry. Pheromones, friction ... _Heh; mind out of the gutter, Jack!_

* * *

_Nothing against blondes personally - I'm a blonde naturally, although have used various shades of red for the last few years. This was just the receptionist's jealousy._


	14. Chapter 14

Well ... so much for a romantic evening in with Jack!

I sighed and shifted uncomfortably, placing a hand on my aching back. I'd swear someone up there hated me.

It was Jack's last full day in Colorado, and he'd asked me to come over to his place for a nice dinner (the man actually _could_ cook, not just burn meat on the barbecue). There'd been the hint of drawl that had suggested that he was more than ready to move things up to the next level. I was on board with that.

What? I'm a woman in the prime of life; I have needs. And Brigadier General Jack O'Neill is a gorgeous all-American chunk of hunk. Older than me, but amazingly hot.

But today ...

I'm also a woman with a seriously whacked-out body chemistry thanks to a little hitch-hiker named Jolinar. So I get no symptoms - no warnings of 'hell week'.

I shifted once more on Jack's recliner as the pain radiated low in my abdomen and sipped morosely at my wine. I'd had alien entities take up residence in my head, staff wounds, ribbon devices, and numerous cuts and bruises. But being on the rag was a bitch ... and I was as unhappy as I could be.

"Sam; are you okay?" Jack strolled out of the kitchen, bearing a large crock pot, Asha padding alongside him. I sometimes wondered if she was actually a dog in disguise - I'd never seen a cat take so well to Jack.

I sat up, wincing as another pain hit, and sniffed the air. "Fine," I said, not wanting to ruin his plans. "Something smells good."

He smiled boyishly and put the crockpot down on the table. "Thanks," he said, then crossed over to me. "Sam; I've known you for what ... eight years? You're a crappy liar."

I'd never been good at lying to this man. But men just didn't deal well with a woman on the rag. I sighed. "I didn't want to ruin your evening, but ...".

"But ...?" he prompted, sitting on the arm of the recliner, Asha now scrambling up his long frame to get to his shoulder.

I gave another sigh and indicated my grumbling abdomen, going pink. I _know_, I know! It's a natural part of a woman's life, nothing to be embarrassed about ... right? But who could be rational when every joint ached, and you felt bloated and ugly? "I ... gotmyperiodtoday," I rushed out.

"Ah."

I closed my eyes, waiting for the complaints, the sighs, or the ill-conceived jokes.

Nothing.

Then his large hand landed on my lower abdomen and my eyes flew open. "Got just the thing for this," he said, rubbing a warm circle on my distressed stomach. He got up and headed to the bathroom, his little fuzzball still on his shoulder.

So far, so good. He was taking it a lot better than the other men I'd been involved with. I shifted again, missing the warmth from his hand - really; the man _was_ the human furnace!

Several minutes later, he came back out with a large warm robe, then took my hand and drew me to my feet. "You; come with me," he ordered.

Years of habit had me following this order, and I went with him to the bathroom. The bathtub was full of steaming water, and he took a handful of crystals and poured them into the water. "Right; you soak in here for a half an hour," he said, lighting some candles and dousing the electric light. "Then come out and stuff your face. And if you feel up to it ..."

I sighed slightly. I wanted to make love with him, but I couldn't. I should've known.

"... I'll give you a back rub."

Even after eight years, this man could still surprise me. "Jack?"

"A-ah!" His hand shot up. "No arguing, Carter. Strip, get that gorgeous body of yours into the tub, and I'll see you in a half-hour."

I gave him a crisp salute. "Yes, _sir_!" I said.

"Smart ass." He brushed the back of his fingers across my cheek in a tender caress, then headed out of the bathroom, closing the door.

I looked around, surprised when a tear made its way to the corner of my eye. I was always a little emotional during this time anyway, and when the rough tough General was so sweet ... I sniffed and began to undress, eager to hit the steaming warmth of the water.

The air was filled with the gentle scent of vanilla as the candles burned and ... Vivaldi played softly through the built-in speakers. Who knew Jack O'Neill could be so thoughtful?

I got into the tub, gasping a little at the heat, but soon adapted. I stretched out, appreciating the fact that Jack's long legs andbattered knee meant he had a full-length deep tub.

I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the cushioned head piece, shifting slightly as my stomach throbbed once more. If it hadn't been for the fact that I felt like dog-shit, this could have been really romantic.

Of course; if I _hadn't_ been feeling like dog-shit, I wouldn't be in this tub alone.

Yep; someone up there hated me.

* * *

Two hours later, I wasn't so convinced that the gods hated me. I lay on my side on Jack's big bed with a heat pack strapped to my tender abdomen and Jack's long strong fingers working magic on my neck and shoulders.

"Jack ...," I said, sitting up and turning to face him, "thank you."

He seemed confused. "For what?"

"For being so good about ... this. I know it kinda ruined your plans for the evening."

The confused look didn't dissipate. "Well, I wasn't going to throw a fit just because you're feeling like shit," he said. He sighed. "Sam ... I'm not the most sensitive guy in the world, but I _was_ married for fifteen years. You think I didn't manage to learn something in that time?"

I'd been engaged twice and neither fiancé had been as good as the man who had yet to become my lover. "So ... it's okay? That we can't ... you know?" _Oh, very smooth, Doctor Carter!_

His eyes hardened, and I tried to get a bead on what he was thinking. "I'd like to beat the shit out of whoever made you think like this," he said. "But something tells me you could kick their ass from here to Orilla without breaking a sweat."

I chuckled, glad that he didn't suddenly think of me as some fragile Dresden doll. Yes, I had issues - didn't everybody? - but I dealt with them, in my own way, in my own time.

I turned and lay back on my side. "More," I said, indicating my lower back.

"Yes, ma'am!" he said and slid his fingers under my tee shirt, kneading gently at the knotted muscles.

I gave a long sigh as he worked out knots I hadn't even known I had. "Mmmm, if the whole Pentagon thing doesn't work out for you, I'll hire you on as my personal masseur," I said, closing my eyes.

"You couldn't afford me, lady!" he teased, withdrew his hands briefly, cracked his knuckles, then slid his hands back under my shirt. He made his way slowly up my back, turning me into a ball of putty - the original boneless wonder. _Damn_, the man had skills! Which led me to wonder what _other_ skills he had ... _Wow; was it getting hot in here?_

He paused suddenly at my bra strap. "Is it okay?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," I said sleepily. I reached round to undo the strap, but he beat me to it with a quick flick. _Wonder if that was a Special Ops move?_

* * *

Sunlight poured in through the window, and I woke up to find a pair of eyes in my face and a heavy arm across my stomach. "Morning, Asha," I muttered.

_Asha?_

I looked around the unfamiliar bedroom, then remembered ...

Right. I must have fallen asleep under his ministrations. And speaking of ... He lay quietly next to me on his back, one arm under his pillow, the other over my waist. I was relieved to see that I was still fully clothed - no lame 'Took off your clothes to make you more comfortable' AKA 'Wanted to see you naked'.

I took a moment to study the man. He looked so peaceful when asleep, some of the frown lines smoothed away and his mouth slightly open as a gentle snore emitted from him. After years of sleeping off world near Daniel - the king of the rafter-rattling snore - the soft rumble coming from Jack wasn't going to disturb me. It was actually quite soothing.

Asha lay on his chest, and stretched to stick her nose into my face, sniffing at the human who was with her favorite human. She purred softly, then got up, padding up Jack's chest to wake him.

Which she did by ... pressing her nose against his and mewing pitifully. His eyes snapped open and his hand shot to his hip for a weapon he didn't have. You could take the man out of the field, but you couldn't take the field out of the man. "Mornin'," he said, his voice slightly gravelly from sleep.

"Morning," I replied, sitting up and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Feeling better?" he inquired, getting up and scooping up the demanding little fluff-ball.

She purred smugly - _she_ knew who the boss was around here! - and I smiled. "Yeah," I said, stretching. "The first day's always the worst. I'll be better in a couple more days."

Then I remembered that he wouldn't _be_ here in a few days. Hell, he wouldn't even be in the state!

He sat back down and put a hand to my face, drawing me into a gentle kiss. "Don't," he said. "Yeah; I'm leaving the Springs, and you're off to Nevada. But there's such a thing as leave, ya know!"

"Yeah."

He paused. "Sure; you'll piss me off, I'll piss you off. We'll fight. I leave the seat up, you squeeze toothpaste from the middle - what's _that_ about? - but we'll be good together; _damn_ good."

It wasn't a sweeping romantic declaration, but it was honest and very Jack. As such, it meant more to me than quotes from Shakespeare.

An indignant mewing from Jack's shoulder interrupted what could have become a tender moment. "Yeah, yeah!" Jack grumbled. "Chow time."

He left the bedroom and I giggled. Totally whipped.

* * *

_Dedicated to my fellow sufferers (and wishing that I had my own personal brown-eyed masseur)._


	15. Chapter 15

_Now into Season 9 - no more gorgeous silver-haired General at Cheyenne Mountain (sobs and stamps feet childishly)._

* * *

Jack

"Thank you, General Martin."

"You're welcome, sir," the other man replied and left my office smartly.

Weird.

A General calling _me_ sir. But I'd only been a two-star for a week - you could forgive the weirdness for a while yet, right?

Yep. Yours truly. Jack O'Neill. The guy who wasn't that bright but not that dumb, didn't have a diplomatic bone in his body, who bore grudges and who loved the Simpsons and Mary Steenburgen was now a Major General in the United States Air Force.

Hammond had laid this on me shortly after my arrival here and my uniform now had _two_ shiny silver stars on each collar. I pulled at my tie, missing my old BDUs. Much more comfortable than this get-up. But it was part of the package I'd accepted when I'd taken on this job.

Didn't mean I had to like it, though.

The jacket hung on the back of my chair, my sleeves were rolled up just past my elbows and my tie hung askew. That was more like it. I got up and headed out of my office. "Janice; goin' for a stroll," I said.

The plump matronly woman nodded her head and gave me a smile. "Well, it _is_ 10:30, General," she replied.

Christ! Was I _that_ predictable already? "Ah."

She opened a tin. "Cookie, General?"

I didn't slaver. Two-star Generals don't slaver. But I came pretty close. This plump little woman - although a couple years younger than me - seemed to think I needed looking after, and had started bringing in home-made goodies the day after I'd arrived.

Pie, cake, cobbler, and now warm chocolate chip cookies. I could swear I'd gained a kilo already. "Janice; I love ya," I said, taking a cookie and eating it slowly before leaving the outer office.

Couldn't be done for a two-star to be seen wandering around clutching a cookie. My style was very different to Hammond's and I'm pretty sure my staff already had me pegged as a touch ... eccentric. I could live with that - kept them from becoming complacent. But I didn't want them to think I was going senile.

I made my way along the bright gleaming hallways, still surprised at how different everything was to the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain. Windows, a ton of civilians, restaurants (not commissaries). For cryin' out loud, there was even a crèche!

I nodded to a couple of young Naval ensigns as they walked past me - they returned the nod respectfully. We weren't the same branch of the military, but brass was brass.

I turned the corner, savoring the taste of smooth rich chocolate that lingered on my tongue. While I tended to prefer vanilla over chocolate, cookies were a serious weakness for me. I heard the rapid pattering of feet and reached for a weapon that I didn't have. Damn it.

The runner turned the corner and barreled straight into me, landing on his butt. Luckily that butt was well padded with a diaper, so he didn't hurt himself. "Whoa there, scooter!" I said, getting down on my better knee to look at the little boy.

Big blue eyes shimmered with tears and his lips puckered into a pout. "Let's get you back to the crèche, huh?" I added, scooping him up and getting back up with a soft groan. Even my good knee wasn't so good anymore - it had been supporting my crappy knee for too long.

The little kid settled happily on my hip and began to finger my tie curiously as I strode along the corridor, looking out for signs of a créche. Five minutes later, and the kid had now fallen asleep, head on my shoulder. I could swear he was drooling - _nice._ No respect.

And no sign of the crèche. I'd once told Sam that I got lost every time I came to DC. The same was true of the Pentagon. It was like a freakin' maze!

"Oh my God!" A young woman, dressed in well-worn jeans and a bright red tee shirt, came flying up to me. "Where did you find him? Is he okay?"

I wasn't about to relinquish the kid. "And you are ...?"

She glared at me, muttering something uncomplimentary in Spanish. "Nice to meet you, too," I said smoothly in the same tongue. "I hope you don't kiss your mother with that mouth."

Give her credit, she didn't seem ashamed of her outburst. "Lieutenant Carmen Juarez," she said, digging in her pocket - how she even got her fingers in those snug jeans was beyond my comprehension - and producing her Pentagon ID. "I run the crèche." She held out her arms. "I want him back - _now_."

"Why certainly, _Lieutenant_," I said silkily.

"General O'Neill," Paul Davis said, nodding his head in respect as he passed me.

"Davis," I replied. He and I had met a number of times in the past, as he was the Pentagon's liaison with the SGC. He was a good man and seemed to like getting away from the politicking of DC. I was pleased to see he'd finally made Lieutenant Colonel.

"Well ... here you go, Lieutenant," I said, handing the chubby child over and brushing at the damp spot as the young Lieutenant gaped at me. "And try to keep a better eye on the kids."

I walked away, leaving the uppity young woman stunned. Damn; that had been fun! I could be so evil at times.

* * *

Janice

I'd been working at the Pentagon for over twenty years - since I'd had to drop out of medical school when my father died - and I'd seen all sorts of Generals during that time.

I'd really enjoyed working with General Hammond; a true old-fashioned Texan gentleman, but without the old-fashioned Texan chauvinism, and I'd been worried when he'd transferred to the Prometheus project.

I'd been even more worried when I learned who his replacement was. You couldn't work with the highest echelons of the USAF military and not know the name Jack O'Neill. One of the Force's most highly decorated officers, he also had the reputation of being bull-headed, irreverent and something of a loose cannon. An authority figure with no respect for authority.

Therefore, I was pleasantly surprised when General O'Neill reported to the Pentagon a week ago. Tall, clean-cut and softly-spoken, but with a roguish twinkle in his brown eyes, he'd been polite and respectful to me and all his new staff. And he was young for Major General - only a little older than me.

He had a sharp wit that belied the façade of stupidity - you didn't get two stars by being an idiot, contrary to some people's beliefs - and was easily the most restless man I'd ever met. He doodled, destroyed paperclips, fiddled with anything that came to hand - yet he could also display an unnerving degree of concentration.

Speak of the devil ... He strolled in, hands stuffed in his pockets and an evil smirk on his face. Anything less General-like I had never seen - but it gave him an almost boyish charm. "Enjoy your walk, General?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah ...," he said. "Any calls while I was out?" he asked absently, his eyes fixed downward.

I didn't even have to follow his gaze to know what he was looking at. The man had an incredibly sweet tooth and I don't know how he stayed so fit. "Just the one, sir, and help yourself."

He opened the tin and got another cookie. "So ... who's the call from?" he mumbled around his bite of cookie.

"Ah ... a Lieutenant Colonel Carter - from Area 51," I said. "She said to let you know she'll be here for your pinning ceremony; with bells on."

"Right." A soft smile replaced the evil smirk. "Didn't think she'd be able to pull herself away from all those eggheads."

He looked younger with that tender smile, and I reflected that the unknown Lieutenant Colonel was a lucky woman.

* * *

Jack

I went back into my office, chewing happily on the last bite of cookie, and resolving firmly to take up the gym membership offered here. Didn't want to get fat, after all.

Especially since Sam was coming up here for my pinning ceremony. Daniel and Teal'c had already confirmed, Teal'c leaving the Jaffa Council to its own devices to come back to Earth, but I'd truly thought Sam wouldn't be able to make it. She'd only been at 51 a couple days after all. But you try getting in the way of Sam Carter when her mind was made up!

This would likely be the last time the old gang would be together. Daniel would be heading off to Atlantis soon, and Teal'c back to Dakara. So I was pleased that they wanted to be here for this.

I grimaced slightly - was I turning into a sentimental fool in my old age?

I really wanted to see Sam again. Despite her physical discomfort, we'd managed to make our last night together a good one, but I was definitely looking forward to a bit more action. Hey, I'm a guy! Sometimes we don't let our brains dictate our thoughts.

And Colonel Doctor Sam Carter was a five nine blonde speed-demon with big blue eyes and a body that just screamed sin. So yeah ... I wanted to do stuff. Fun stuff. _Lots_ of fun stuff.

I shifted uncomfortably as certain body parts shared their enthusiasm for the approaching weekend. _Damn ... who needs Viagra, huh?_

Jack O'Neill. Chronological age: _so_ not tellin'. Physical age: mid to late 30s (according to my last physical - _sweet, huh?_). Mental age: no more than 18. And sex drive age? High school. Let's just hope my staying power was better than high school age.

"General?" The door opened and Janice came in. "The Joint Chiefs would like to see you," she said.

I sighed. _Of course they do._ "Thank you; I'll be there in a few," I replied. I slipped on the jacket of my blues, willing my recalcitrant anatomy to settle down. _Dead puppies ... roadkill ...yogurt ... Teal'c in a tutu ..._

That did it. I sighed with relief this time and tugged my tie straight, doing up the buttons on my jacket. I looked quickly in the mirror. Major General Jack O'Neill - off to meet with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. _Heh; I could get used to this._


	16. Chapter 16

_Correct version now uploaded - I swear my computer has a mind of its own!_

* * *

Major General Jack O'Neill.

As that round-headed kid from the Peanuts strip would say: "Good grief."

I just wish Dad could've been here to see this - he would've had kittens at the notion. I sniggered softly, picturing the interaction between the two Major Generals, then sighed. I missed him so much.

"Hey, Carter!"

That was my former CO's dulcet tones. I turned to see Jack striding over to me, accompanied by ... _Oh, Good Lord_ ... President Henry Hayes and a contingent of Secret Service men. I got up hastily and saluted, glad that I'd chosen _not_ to go civilian today, although I'd been given that option. "Mister President," I said properly, standing to attention.

Jack gave me a wicked grin. "At ease, Carter, before ya break something," he advised. He turned to the older man. "Mister President; allow me to present Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, currently based in R&D at Area 51."

President Hayes took my hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly, Colonel," he said. "I've heard a lot about you from Jack here."

I gave Jack a wary look. "Yes, sir?" I asked cautiously.

The President smiled broadly. "All very good, Colonel; I assure you," he said easily. "Well, I'd better keep moving - Michael and the boys get nervous if I stay in one place too long."

"Yes, sir," I said, still standing crisply to attention.

The President offered Jack his hand. "And as for you; do a good job or George and I will kick your butt!" he said.

Jack broke into a helpless grin - it was evident he liked our Commander in Chief a lot. "Yes, sir," he said.

The President walked off, humming something. "Was that ...?" I queried.

"Yep," Jack said, still grinning. "I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major General. Gilbert and Sullivan." He turned to face me. "You gotta like his style," he offered.

I chuckled. "Yes, sir," I said, mindful of the fact that we were surrounded by brass.

Jack didn't seem to care, though. "Lookin' good, Carter," he said casually.

"Thanks, sir; you too," I said, reflecting that he looked more than 'good'. In those Class A's with a matching cap and dark glasses shielding his eyes from the bright sun, he looked lean, powerful and sexy as hell. I shivered slightly - damn, I could hardly wait for tonight!

I could just see the headlines: 'Horny Blonde Colonel Jumps Major General's Bones At Pinning Ceremony'. It was pretty much what I wanted to do, but in a much more private location.

* * *

Now that the pomp and circumstance was out of the way, Daniel and Teal'c came to join us.

"Hi-ho; the gang's all here," Jack mumbled with a roll of his eyes, but he didn't fool me. I knew he was pleased they were here. It had only been a couple of weeks since he'd left the SGC, but we both knew that this could be the last time for a very long time that we were all together.

"Yeah; good to see you too, Jack," Daniel commented with a near-identical eye roll.

"It's good to see you again, O'Neill," Teal'c said, extending his hand to clasp Jack's forearm.

Jack grinned. "Back atcha, big guy. So ... how're things back home? And Ishta?"

Teal'c paused thoughtfully - he spoke little, so when he did it always came out sounding profound. "It is ... different," he decided. "But Ishta does not change."

Another argument to peel the paint off the walls, I surmised from that comment. The two Jaffa were both strong-willed and passionate - leading to some world-shaking clashes.

Jack smirked. "And you wouldn't have it any other way, T," he said.

Now Teal'c smiled. "I would not," he agreed. "I'm proud of what she's achieved in the face of so much opposition."

I excused myself and headed off to the restroom.

* * *

Nearly forty years old, and Daniel still couldn't drink worth a damn. "Night, Jack, Sam!" he slurred happily, giving me a big sloppy kiss on my forehead and nearly strangling Jack with a hug.

"Christ!" Jack grumbled, scowling but patting the linguist's back. "Easy there, big guy," he added.

Thankfully he had the ever-vigilant Teal'c to pour him into a cab. The man himself clasped Jack's forearm. "Tek matté, O'Neill," he said.

"Tek ma'tek," Jack returned, sounding relieved. I know he cared a lot about Daniel, but he was sometimes irritated by his exuberance. Teal'c's dignified departure was much more to his taste than big hugs.

For all he was so damn good at hugging, Jack was a very private man, and was not a social hugger. Neither was I, so I could sympathize. I didn't get the thing people had for hugging at the drop of a hat.

* * *

After that wonderful meal, we went over to Jack's settee, where Asha promptly draped herself around Jack's neck and went to sleep. "She's so weird," Jack mumbled, but stroked the small furry body nonetheless.

"And you wouldn't have her any other way," I teased. "You're just a big softy under that hard-ass General exterior."

"Hey, watch it," he said lazily. "_I_ am a Major General now, and _you_ are the lowly Lieutenant Colonel. Show some respect."

"Uh-huh." I snorted inelegantly and sipped the coffee he'd made to accompany the sweet rich Death By Chocolate cake he'd procured for dessert. I eyed the cake, debating. Oh, I just had to! I got the knife and cut myself a slice of the sinful confection, brought a forkful to my lips and swallowed.

"Oh, God ...," I moaned, closing my eyes, "this is just too damn good." I opened my eyes and regarded Jack, who was staring at me with a peculiar intensity. "Don't try and kid me you made this!" I added.

"Nope," he admitted. "Baking's not my forte. That came from Janice."

"Janice?"

"A-ah, Carter! Is that jealousy in your tone?" he teased, tsking at me. "For shame." Then he relented. "Janice Myers - forty six years old, five nothing, plump, four kids, husband, and executive assistant to one ornery old Major General." He shrugged his shoulders. "She seems to think I need spoiling."

"Ah." I took another forkful of the cake and moaned once more. "God ... I think I'd _marry_ this cake!"

"It's really that good?" He eyed me again with that peculiar intensity.

"Oh, yeah ...," I sighed and offered him a forkful.

He leaned over and captured my lips with his, nibbling at the crumbs on my lips, then stroking the rich dark chocolate off my tongue. My hands slid down to his chest and I sank into the embrace, my eyes closing.

After the kiss ended, Jack sat back and regarded me with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. "Yeah; pretty sweet, Sam," he said.

I ran my tongue over my now swollen lips. "Uh-huh," I agreed. _Where are the multi-syllables now, Doctor Carter?_

He got up and plucked Asha off his shoulder, settling her on the settee. She squeaked indignantly then curled up into a ball and went back to sleep. Jack linked his hand with mine and drew me to my feet.

Then he drew me into another sweet kiss. This one became much more intense and he suddenly dipped me, forcing me to wrap my arms around him to prevent falling on my ass. Our bodies clung together and I quickly became aware of his arousal. Our lips separated with an audible _pop_ (that was some suction we'd had!) and he brought me back upright. "You wanna take this to the bedroom?" he asked.

I smiled. "Yeah, sure, ya betcha!" I said.

Hand in hand, we went to the large bedroom. The room was oddly sterile, as if Jack hadn't been there long enough to stamp his personality on it yet, but there were signs of him. The small figurine of Homer Simpson on the night stand, a picture of Charlie on the other one, a hockey stick on the wall.

"Sam ...," he said suddenly. "You have to know how gorgeous and sexy you are. I just ..." - he chewed on his bottom lip - "I'm a lot older than you. I don't want to disappoint you."

"You won't," I said confidently, surprised at the man's lack of self-esteem. Although a modest, self-effacing man, I would never have thought that it ran so deep. "That dip told me everything I needed to know - I don't think stamina's going to be a problem." I put my hand to his cheek and brushed a whisper soft kiss onto his lips. "Besides, this isn't just about getting laid. You mean much more to me than that."

"Cool," he said. "And you're more than a quick lay to me too, Sam," he replied.

Suddenly he swooped and scooped me up into his arms. I shrieked and laughed. "Jack! Your knee!"

"Don't care," he grunted, striding quickly over to the bed and dumping me unceremoniously on it.

Oh, he wanted to play, did he? I could do that. And it was good to see that he seemed to have left his nerves behind. I wasn't used to a nervous Jack O'Neill.

* * *

"_God_ ...," I muttered, rolling off of him to collapse next to him, my chest heaving from our most recent exertions.

"You good?" he said huskily.

I didn't even have to look at him to see the huge shit-eating grin he likely wore right now. "You even have to ask?" I put my hand on his sweat-damp chest and kissed him. "And don't ever _again_ feed me that crap about being older than me."

I looked blearily over at the clock, and was shocked to see that we'd been making love for over four hours. Talk about stamina! And the man had technique too. "God, Jack ... incredible!" I kissed the pulse beating strong and steady in his neck. "Where did you learn such ... fantastic things?"

He kissed my forehead. "That's what you get for only dating unimaginative young studs," he teased, then sobered suddenly. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Sam," he added. "I've been with a lot of women - and I really enjoy sex. But with you ... it's making love. And that's only happened twice in my life before you."

_Making love ..._

"Sam; I'm crap with words, but ya hafta know ... I do love you," he said.

"I know," I said.

He was nonplused at that. "You ... do?"

"Yes," I said, running a hand idly along one of his strong biceps. Not as big as Teal'c's, but hard and powerful. "When you were so sweet with me back in the Springs ... I knew it then." I sighed and screwed up my courage. "And I love you too, Jack."

He grinned boyishly. "Cool," he pronounced, then looked down with a puzzled air.

I looked down also. "Uh ... what's _that_ about?" I asked.

"I have no idea," he said. "But let's enjoy it while it lasts, huh?" He scooped me tightly against his powerful frame and I lost myself in the sight, sounds, smell and passion of Jack O'Neill once more.

* * *

_I can't write full-on sex scenes - they make me feel icky. So I'll just leave this to your imaginations. Maybe yours are more fertile than mine!_

_Also, I don't know anything about the Pentagon, so I likely didn't get Janice's job title right._


	17. Epilogue

_Sometime in the future._

* * *

Was there anything more cute than Sam Carter-O'Neill right now? She lay on our bed, sexy blue nightgown hiked up her thighs, hair in her eyes, face flushed, mouth slack and ... snoring softly. 

I looked down at my sleeping wife, reflecting ruefully that this wasn't exactly the way I'd pictured our first anniversary celebration going.

But she'd been so tired lately. The Ori were becoming more and more aggressive and a couple of the System Lords had chosen to join forces with them, trying to regain the territory they'd lost after the Jaffa had broken free.

She was essentially working two jobs - leading SG-1 and in command of the labs, and her duties had only increased when she'd made full Colonel four months ago. I'd been the one to pin the birds onto her lapels and had heard myself call her "Colonel O'Neill".

I pulled my tee shirt over my head, leaving my hair in disarray, then got into bed beside her. The door creaked open and a sleek elegant marmalade cat strolled in, followed closely by two miniature editions of her and a little black tom.

Oy. The man who'd always hated cats now had four of them. Good homes had been found for the kittens, and they would leave in a couple of weeks after they'd been weaned.

One of the gingers was to go to Janice - her youngest child had just left for college and she was feeling the need to mother something. The other had been snapped up by Doctor Lam, the SGC's CMO, and the black tom ...

Teal'c.

I kid you not.

The tiny scrappy black kitten and the huge scary warrior. It was almost like they were kindred spirits. I nearly snickered when the kitten had settled easily into his big hands, purring in ecstasy, but had managed to restrain myself. The guy would've pounded on me but good.

"I wish to take this animal, O'Neill," he announced after examining it thoroughly. "When will it be ready to leave its mother?"

A snicker _did_ escape me then. Teal'c had looked at me narrowly, then had ... smiled. A warm, soft smile that I think only his kid had ever induced in him. "I can offer him a good home, and I would enjoy the companionship," he stated simply.

He'd recently moved off base and, so far, hadn't run into trouble. He seemed to have learned his lesson after the last time he'd tried it, and was keeping himself to himself a little more. Hadn't stopped him developing a fan club of female admirers, though. But that's what you get when you move into an area full of single women ...

Crafty son of a bitch.

I was still based in DC, but split my time pretty evenly between Homeworld Security and training would-be SGC recruits at the Academy. So I was in DC for a couple weeks, then back to the Springs, then back again.

I even got to go off world once in a while with the recruits, and found that helped me from going mad. Ironic, really. Now that I'd left the SGC, I got to go off world more than when I'd been running the place.

I tugged the covers over Sam and myself - I loved the woman, found her sexy as all get-out, but she was a serious blanket hog. She grunted something incoherent, turned and put an arm round my waist, snuggling into me. I kissed the top of her blonde head and resumed my thoughts.

T had become a grandfather shortly after Sam and I had married. Yeah; he didn't look old enough, but he _was_ over a hundred years old. Rya'c and Kary'n had named the kid Bra'tac after Teal'c's mentor, who'd died shortly before the birth.

Too bad about that - I bet the ornery old coot would've loved to see his namesake.

Daniel wasn't married, but seemed to be enjoying the occasional tryst with that woman who'd hijacked the Prometheus ... whatsername ... Vala. Sexy as hell - I could see what he saw in her - but what _was_ it with him and women who'd been Goa'ulds? Sha're, Sarah and now Vala.

Sam nuzzled into my neck. "Whatcha doin'?" she said, her voice husky from sleep.

"Just thinking."

She snorted at that. "I'd always heard married couples became like each other," she said, then sat up. "Sorry about tonight, Jack," she added with a yawn. "I'm just ... beat."

"You work too hard," I said. "I know I'm flogging a dead horse, but you need to learn how to delegate."

She smiled. "You're right."

"You're young and strong - and gorgeous - but you can't keep working at this ..." - her words sank in. "Huh?"

"You're right," she said. She sat up and looked at me thoughtfully. "I've submitted my resignation as leader of SG-1 to General Landry. I'll stay with the SGC as a member of the Air Force, but I want to stay in the labs from now on."

"What? But you love going off world!"

"I'll still have the occasional trip off world, Jack," she said, "but you're right. I can't keep going like I am. And I'm going to have other priorities soon."

"I know you've got a Masters in confusing Jack O'Neill, but could ya _try_ for a little clarity here?" I said.

She tugged her top lip in between her teeth. "Straight to business?" she said. "I can do that."

She took my hand and put it to her satin-clad abdomen - never as flat as she would've liked. I loved her sexy little tummy - washboard abs on a woman just looked ... wrong. Call me a sexist pig, but that's how I feel.

"I'm pregnant, Jack."

_Pregnant? Wow ..._ A huge shit-eating grin made its way onto my face and I took her face in my hands, kissing her deeply. "I love you, Doctor Colonel Samantha Carter-O'Neill," I told her. Then I scooched down the bed and kissed her tummy. "And you too, bubba."

She scowled at me.

"Bubbette?" I amended, waggling my eyebrows.

She laughed. "God; you're such an ass!" she said, then scooched down the bed to join me, throwing her leg over mine. "But you're _my_ ass," she declared, rubbing her torso against mine and causing all sorts of fun things to go through my dirty little mind.

I growled and pulled her on top of me and she shrieked with laughter. Soon the laughter changed to soft sighs and growls of passion as we showed our love for each other in the oldest way.

Damn; life was good!

**THE END**

* * *

_Thanks to all you wonderful readers/fellow writers who've kept me going through this crazy fic. You people are the best!_

_I'd love to thank you all personally for your reviews, but there've been that many of them it would come out like an Oscar acceptance speech. Who knew my lunacy was so catching!_

_So ... LOL, hugs and see ya! _:-)


	18. Epilogue 2

_I've had a few requests for a sequel/another epilogue. So … just for you guys! And this really is it! I'm working on another story as we speak._

* * *

Jack O'Neill. Hero to millions of people, kick-ass soldier, and king of smart ass comebacks.

And my dad.

My dad … my friends think he's awesome. A four star General and Chief of Staff of the Air Force. Till tomorrow when he retires. Again. He's already tried it a few times, but keeps getting yanked back. Last time was four years ago. And the _President_ of the Western Alliance called him personally to bring him back into the fold.

I'd activated the comm. "Hello?" I said.

"Hello, honey; is Jack around?" said a distinctive Texas accent.

The President of the Western Alliance. Also known as George Hammond, Dad's former CO. Also known as Grandpa George. "Grandpa!" I said. "When you gonna come visit again?" I'd never stood on ceremony with Grandpa George, and always had to be prodded to call him 'Mister President' at official functions.

I switched on the vid-link and looked at my favorite Grandpa. Okay; my _only_ Grandpa. Dad's folks died when _he_ was only a kid, and Mom's Dad died just after those freaky metallic bugs were wiped out.

He chuckled. "I'm pretty busy at the moment, Katie, but soon, I promise. Is Jack there?"

"Not at the moment," I said, ignoring my baby-sitter. I was eleven — what did I need a baby-sitter for? Parents could be so lame. "Whatcha want him for? Nothin' AF, I hope. He's retiring soon."

"I can't tell you too much over the comm link, but let's just say a certain little gray-skinned ally needs his help."

Say no more. Supreme Commander Thor. My dad's favorite little gray-skinned buddy. He looked like something out of that weird Roswell conspiracy from the last century and only came up to my chest. He was super-smart and was firm friends with my dad.

_My dad._

Who was nowhere near as dumb as he pretended, but wasn't anywhere in the Asgard league either.

"Okay," I said, resigned to the fact that the Asgard weren't about to let someone else take charge of the WAAF.

"I'm home!" my dad caroled, slamming the door shut and coming up the stairs.

I dragged myself back to the present. "Hey, Dad," I said, wiping the tears away furiously.

"Shitty day, huh, honey?" he asked, sitting down on my bed with a bounce. Sometimes I'd swear that Stargate put him in some age-defying stasis. No way was he like other guys in their 60's!

"The pits," I sniffled. "Todd …". I wanted a hug, but how could a fairly cool 15 year old admit that to their dad?

"C'mere," my dad said, and pulled me into a giant hug as I sniffled into his shoulder.

Everybody needs a hug.

Whether you've broken up with a boyfriend (guys _suck_!), got a bad score on your SATs, whatever …

And my dad's real good at hugging.

Sometimes my parents can be so lame, but when I've had a real suck-ass day, he's always there with a hug. Course, I don't let my friends know how great he is at it — I've already got a pretty geeky reputation having an astrophysicist for a mom.

Even though she's a former fighter pilot and a Brigadier General in the Air Force, that overwhelming coolness is offset by the science geek thing.

It's so weird. My friends meet my dad and they immediately want to hug him. General Jack O'Neill, the hug machine. And they've got a crush on him! Which is just … like … _euwwww!_ He's _old!_

Yeah, he doesn't look his age, but he's still old.

And the ones who don't have a crush on him like Uncle Daniel! Not as old as Dad, but still pretty ancient. But I can understand that a bit more. I've seen pictures from before I was born. Brown hair, bright blue eyes and a nice butt — pretty cute. When I mentioned that to Dad, I thought he was gonna have a heart attack. Heh. I'm so evil.

My mom and dad met toward the end of the previous century when Mom was transferred to Cheyenne from the Pentagon. He was still a Colonel and she was a Captain. They had a 'thing' for ages, but they weren't allowed to do anything about it, because he was her CO.

The Air Force is lame. I'm never joining the military if they think they can tell me who to love.

About five years after I was born, the Stargate Program was made public, and I finally found out what Mom had been doing all those times she'd come home with weird injuries or a sunburn during the middle of winter.

Traveling to other planets through a big metal ring. Sounds like that crappy pilot "Wormhole X-treme" — never got picked up. Apparently Dad was the Air Force consultant on that, but he's threatened to shoot me if I ever tell anyone.

He might be in his 60's, but he's a crack shot. Makes me wonder what he did before he joined the SGC, but maybe I don't _want_ to know. All I know is that even Marines shit bricks when they see him in one of his moods.

They don't get to see the other Jack O'Neill. The one who gives me such great hugs, makes awesome omelets and loves my mom so much that they still … _euwwwwww_ … make out. I mean … _gross_. They're old! Seriously traumatized teen here!

"Boys suck," I mumbled into his shoulder.

"Yep," my dad agreed. He'd never liked Todd, but I'd just put it down to him being a dad.

Turns out he was right on the money. I'm only 15; I'm not ready to go all the way. But Todd got mad when I told him, called me a 'cock tease' and dumped me in the middle of the freeway to walk home. Son of a bitch.

"I hate him," I added.

Dad raised my chin with a gentle finger. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, his eyes darkening. He was changing from caring Dad to kick-ass AF soldier who knew hundreds of ways to kill someone without leaving a trace.

"Just my feelings," I muttered. "Dad … could you or Uncle Teal'c teach me how to kick his ass? I want to take him out."

Uncle Teal'c. An actual alien. He'd had a Goa'uld larvae in him for most of his life, so he looked even younger than Dad, who wasn't too ancient looking. _Euuwwww_ on the larvae thing! But he was cool. He had this neat gold tattoo on his forehead from when he'd served as head honcho to a snake called Apophis.

He was free now, as were all the other Jaffa, and he'd married a Jaffa woman called Ishta. They didn't live on Earth, but now that the Stargate was no longer secret, it was pretty easy for him to come visit. When I'd started dating Todd, he'd muttered something about Todd being 'hassac'. Didn't know what that was, but it didn't sound good.

And he'd offered to teach me self-defense techniques that anybody could learn — even someone my size. Considering my parents were so damn tall (six-three and five-nine), how was it I couldn't get past five-four? Genetics must've taken a vacation when I was conceived.

Dad kissed me on my forehead. "Sure thing," he said.

The door opened and I heard my mom come in, humming. Couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but it was a good sign that things hadn't gone down the crapper during the day.

God … my language. Totally Dad's fault. Mom says my very first word was 'Crap'. I could believe that.

"We're up here, Sam!" Dad called out.

Mom came up the steps and entered my bedroom, tugging off the jacket of her dress blues. In her fifties and she was still slim. The other moms hated her for that. But you run around saving the planet and kicking junior officers' butts, and _you'd_ stay slim too. Plus the fact that she could get so absorbed in one of her science things she'd forget to eat.

Dad had once ordered her to get a life. She'd totally done that, but she still loved her science.

"Rough day?" she asked, sitting on my other side and kissing me on the cheek. She wasn't as good at hugging as my dad was, but she was a frickin' genius and the whole reason I hadn't flunked physics last semester. Couldn't have everything, I guess.

"Crappy," I sniffed, then sat up. "But enough about me. Did you manage to get a dress for Dad's retirement do?"

Mom got a twinkle in her eye. "Certainly did," she said. She leaned over to my dad. "I think you'll like it, Jack," she added. "It's blue."

He got a mischievous, some might say shit-eating, grin on his face. "Like that Shavadai dress?"

Mom sighed and grinned. "That was over twenty years ago, Jack. Get over it."

Another in-joke I was never going to get. But the way Dad was looking at my mom right now, I probably didn't want to know. "Christ; get a room, guys," I mumbled.

Mom went pink. "Katherine Charlotte Janet O'Neill!" she yelped. But she was laughing too. "Are you okay, then?"

"I'm good, Mom," I said, flinching at my full name. I hated having to fill out forms for school.

"Good to hear," my dad said. He tugged at my mom's hand. "Let's see this dress then, babe," he added.

'Babe'. If anybody else had ever called my mom 'babe', she would have kicked their ass from here to Sunday.

They went out of the room, laughing like a couple of kids. I heard their bedroom door slam shut and quickly put my head phones on, turning the music up to 'loud'.

Seriously; one traumatized teenager here!

But it was cool, too. What other girl my age had parents who loved each other so much? Maybe I'd find love like that one day too. As long as I stayed out of the military, that was, I added hastily.

* * *

_WAAF — Western Alliance Air Force._

_It's been a very long time since I was fifteen, so I hope I captured Katie all right. LOL._


End file.
